


The Final Score

by jaemarked



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternative Universe - FBI, Betrayal, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee, Fluff and Angst, Heist, Inspired by White Collar, Kidnapping, M/M, Partners in Crime, Polyamory, Robbery, White Collar Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaemarked/pseuds/jaemarked
Summary: A conman, thief, and expert forger, Jaemin Na has been a criminal since he was 18 and on the FBI’s watch list since he was 24. Special Agent Mark Lee finally manages to get him behind bars, only to pull him out a year later to work as a criminal informant for the FBI. Mark wants to show Jaemin the way to an honest life, but Jaemin just wants one last heist before he disappears.He doesn’t expect to fall in love — not with the man who arrested him, nor his husband.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee, Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee/Na Jaemin
Comments: 39
Kudos: 73
Collections: Director's Cut Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this work heavily follows some of the episodes of White Collar, but you do not need to have seen the show in order to read it! 
> 
> while the subplots are very similar to the show, the main plot and end goal is very different. i hope you can bear with me and follow along until the very end! please note that there are POV switches between the main characters of the fic.
> 
> content warnings include:  
> minor violence, crimes, kidnapping, minor injuries, and minor mentions of death. if these topics are potentially triggering, please proceed with caution or exit out of this fic.
> 
> once again while the subplots aren't mine, the main plot and characters were all created by me. i do not allow reposting or translations of my works without permission.
> 
> that being said, i hope you enjoy this fic!

The buzzer beside the door going off was the only indication of the prisoner’s arrival. There were no windows in Meeting Room B, but it didn’t matter, because the door opened to reveal a single guard and a criminal dressed in baggy orange clothing, hands cuffed in front of him.

“Good to see you again, Special Agent Lee,” the guard said gruffly. It was not their first time meeting. In fact, Special Agent Mark Lee frequently visited the Metropolitan Correctional Center for one prisoner and one prisoner alone.

Said prisoner sighed when the guard unlocked his cuffs, leaving him to sit down in the metal chair across from Mark. He rubbed at his wrists as if they were delicate, but Jaemin Na was used to being cuffed, and Mark knew it. He leaned back against his chair and flashed a bright, unnervingly white smile. Mark could easily see how Jaemin was able to charm his marks, but he wasn’t fooled by Jaemin’s handsome appearance. Beneath that gorgeous look was a viper coiled and ready to attack at any time. But that wasn’t what he was here for, and he and Jaemin both knew that. Whether he liked it or not, he felt relatively safe around Jaemin, or as safe as he could feel around a criminal, though he was non-violent. 

Mark rested one hand on the slim manila file on the table, but he didn’t need to open it, because he knew Jaemin Na better than anyone else in the world. 

“Mark,” Jaemin said warmly, “thank you for coming to meet me.”

“Cut the bullshit, Na,” Mark sighed. “What do you want?”

Jaemin’s smile didn’t fade. “You’re no fun, Mark. Stick up your ass just like always?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “If that’s all you have to say, I’m leaving.”

He stood up abruptly, the metal chair beneath him screeching awfully against the floor. Let Jaemin rot behind bars in a bleak, dismal prison. It would do him good to live like a poor person in a Manhattan jail cell instead of draped in luxury the way he preferred it. 

“No, wait.” A hand clasped around his wrist, technically breaking protocol, but it was the desperation in Jaemin’s voice that made Mark pause. In the two, almost three, years Mark spent chasing him, he had never heard Jaemin break his facade. After a moment of consideration, he sat down again, crossing his arms and giving Jaemin an unimpressed glare. He was surprised to see the relief on Jaemin’s face instead of his usual blank expression or charming grin. “I need to ask you something.”

“Fine,” Mark said, uncrossing his arms and folding his hands on the table. It was his way of showing he was listening, and Jaemin knew that. If anything, he probably knew Mark just as well as he knew Jaemin. “You have one minute before I lose interest.”

“You can get me out of here,” Jaemin told him immediately, and Mark almost snorted, but he promised Jaemin one minute, and he never broke a promise. “No, listen. There’s case precedent.” He pulled out folded pieces of paper from his jumpsuit and opened them carefully, sliding them across the table to Mark, who didn’t even bother reading it. He knew what Jaemin had printed out. “I can work as an informant for the FBI.”

“You’ve spent the last three years on the _run_ from the FBI,” Mark pointed out. He would know -- he spent two years chasing him. Tracking his movements, hunting down his associates. Jaemin had always been one step ahead of him, until Mark managed to catch him on bond forgery. He was suspected for dozens of crimes and robberies, but he only got four years in prison. It was practically a slap on the wrist for any low-end criminal, but for someone as sophisticated as Jaemin, it was probably torture. Jaemin loved expensive wine, high-end clothing, and beautiful jewelry. Instead he got an orange jumpsuit, sludge for three meals a day, and probably worked the laundry press as part of his reformative punishment. 

“I can’t stay here anymore,” Jaemin said weakly. No smiles, no tricks. Just open, raw honesty. Mark wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He didn’t know what to do with a Jaemin that didn’t lie. 

“The second I take you out of here, you’re gonna give me the slip and run off,” Mark said, though he didn’t actually believe it.

“You can track my location,” Jaemin said eagerly; he knew when Mark was giving in. “There are tracking anklets. Military grade. You can’t cut or disable them.”

Mark carefully surveyed Jaemin’s appearance, taking him in properly for the first time. His jumpsuit was baggy on him, a sign that he hadn’t been eating well enough. There were faint circles under his eyes, and a small scar on his neck that hadn’t been there when Mark arrested him. His hair was chopped messily across his forehead, clearly done by unprofessional hands. He still looked handsome, yes, but Mark had never seen him look so unkempt.

“The FBI has a dozen CIs at our beck and call,” Mark said quietly. “Why would we need you?”

Jaemin leaned forward, splaying his hands on the tabletop, and he no longer looked vulnerable. Instead, his trademark grin was back on his face. The Snake Charmer indeed. This is exactly why the White Collar division had given him that nickname. “I know you’re going after the Dutchman.” 

Mark tried, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening in surprise. “How did you know that?”

Jaemin smirked. “I have friends in high places.”

Mark hesitated, but his desire to get the Dutchman behind bars outweighed his desire to keep Jaemin behind them. “You really think you can help us?”

“Nobody knows crime better than me,” Jaemin replied, leaning back in his seat. The desperation was gone, replaced by a mask of cool composure that Mark always expected to see when he looked at Jaemin. “You call him the Dutchman because every time you get close, he disappears. Just like the ghost ship. But I won’t just get you close. I can lead you right to him. I can help you catch him like you did me.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Mark said, face blank, but he saw Jaemin’s smile widen, glittering in triumph. He knew he had already won Mark over. 

“Thanks, Mark. Really.”

“I make no promises, Jaemin,” Mark warned him. “The higher-ups aren’t gonna like this at all.”

“But you promise to try, right?” Jaemin asked, and when Mark nodded, he smiled again. This time it was softer, saccharine. He smiled like everything was right with the world. “That’s fine, then. I know you’ll make good on your promise.”

$$$

Jaemin followed the officers obediently, uncaring of the bruising grip they had on his arms. He was dressed in the same clothes he had worn when Mark arrested him, a navy blue suit with a crisp white button up. His face was freshly shaven and his cellmate, Hyunwoo, had trimmed his hair for him.

“Let me see it,” Mark called as soon as the officers had unlocked the prison gate and opened it to let him through. Jaemin smiled, leaning over to pull up the left leg of his pants, revealing the shiny tracking anklet they had fastened around his leg prior to letting him out of the building. “You can let him go, he’ll be fine with me.”

The officer to his right let him go with ease, seemingly uncaring, but the other officer dug his thick, meaty fingers into the flesh of Jaemin’s arm before pushing him roughly. Mark immediately put a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, glaring at the officer. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it. 

“If you run, Jaemin,” Mark said, looking more serious than ever. “If you run, I won’t be able to save you. You’ll be back behind bars for good.”

“I won’t run, Mark,” Jaemin replied, making sure to look Mark in the eyes. He knew Mark didn’t trust him -- probably wouldn’t ever trust him, and that was fine, because he was lying. But he knew for sure that this time, if he ran, he’d make sure he wouldn’t get caught.

“I don’t believe you,” Mark said, rolling his eyes, but he directed Jaemin through the parking lot and onto the busy sidewalk. Jaemin took a single moment to take in the awful smell, the roaring cars, the chattering pedestrians, and the pigeons crowding around a man on a bench throwing bread crumbs, before following Mark down the street. “I’m going to take you to the place you’ll be staying. Your tracking anklet will be set for a two mile radius of the motel. If you step even a single foot outside of it, you’ll have the entire NYPD and every single FBI agent in New York on your ass, so do _not_ step outside the radius. Same goes for if you try to tamper with it or cut it off.”

“I won’t,” Jaemin assured him again, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was so tempted to pickpocket a passerby or two, just to have some cash to his name, but he didn’t want to disappoint Mark so soon. No, he needed to be extra careful. He didn’t want to go back to prison ever again. Despite his kind cellmate that had taken him under his wing, Jaemin had felt nothing but unsafe there. 

“We’ll give you some time to get settled in,” Mark said, sidestepping a little girl and her father and nearly stumbling off the sidewalk before Jaemin caught him by the arm. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be there at eight AM sharp, and we’ll visit HQ for a debriefing. I’ll leave the Dutchman’s case file with you so you can review it.”

“Eight AM?” Jaemin groaned. “No way you’re making me wake up that early.”

Mark shot him an unimpressed look. “I call the shots, Jaemin. You will be working eight or more hours a day, five days a week. You will keep your head down, your hands to yourself, and you _will_ follow the law. Anything you do badly will reflect back on me. You got that?”

“I got it,” Jaemin said with a half-sarcastic salute. Mark rolled his eyes again, but the corner of his mouth turned up a little. They stopped in front of a run down building with maybe three floors, and Jaemin’s eyes widened. “ _No._ ”

Mark pushed lightly on his back until he went inside. The front desk came into view immediately, and Jaemin grimaced at the tacky red colours. There was a burly, sweaty man sitting behind the desk, his balding head gleaming in the yellow light. He was gnawing on a street vendor hot dog like a dog with a bone, making obscene slurping noises. That, combined with the smell of mildew and mould, made Jaemin want to vomit. 

“Well, here’s your place,” Mark announced, gesturing grandly. Jaemin fought the urge to slap him. “Home sweet home. Hello, good sir, may I have the key to the room we discussed earlier?”

“Mark,” Jaemin said cordially, flinching when the man behind the desk let out a massive belch, so loud he imagined the paintings on the wall had shaken. “Can I speak to you privately?”

“Sure,” Mark replied back, looking more amused than he had any right to. They stepped away from the desk, as close to the door as Jaemin could get. Even the smell of Manhattan’s streets was better than this. “What’s up, Jaemin?”

“You can’t seriously expect me to live here,” Jaemin said immediately. 

Mark sighed. “This is the only place within your two mile radius that will put you up for seven hundred and fifty a month. If you find something better, go ahead and take it.”

“Well, what about clothes?” Jaemin practically whined. Mark wasn’t seriously going to leave him here, was he? He looked back at the receptionist, who was now trying to dig lint out of his belly button. To his horror, the man brought his fingers to his nose and _sniffed them._

Mark sighed, then reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, pulling out a crisp twenty dollar bill and sticking it in Jaemin’s palm. “There’s a thrift store just down the block from here. Knock yourself out.”

_This is cruel and unusual punishment,_ Jaemin wanted to say, but Mark’s phone began vibrating in his pocket. He gave Jaemin an apologetic look before pulling it out, swiping to answer and putting it to his ear.

“Hello?” 

Jaemin wandered outside to give Mark some privacy, even though he could catch little snippets of the conversation here and there. He tried hard not to eavesdrop, knowing that Mark would be upset if he did, and instead surveyed his surroundings. The location wasn’t ideal -- far from it actually. But he would have to make do with what he had. He _did_ need to find a place though, and fast. He didn’t have access to any of his assets though, so he might have to spend a night or two in the motel from hell. He shuddered just thinking about it, but before he could let his imagination get the best of him, Mark stepped out, looking stressed.

“I gotta get back to the office. Stay here. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning and bring you a phone. Be ready by eight, please. We have a lot of work to do.”

“I’ll be ready, Mark. I promise.” Mark gave him a look, but eventually relented with a sigh. Jaemin waited until he had gotten into a cab before making his way to the thrift shop. It felt good to be free and to be able to look at the sky for more than an hour every day. He hadn’t been in prison for that long, and he had been planning to break out, but had stumbled across a paper about criminal informants for the FBI and immediately thought of Mark. 

_Besides_ , Jaemin thought, smiling to himself, _nothing wrong with taking out a little competition. They don’t call me a snake for nothing._

He found the thrift shop with ease, pushing open the door and causing the little bell to jingle. Despite the area, it was practically pristine, with clothing hung neatly on racks and shelves organized neatly with assorted goods lining the walls. Jaemin smiled at the woman behind the counter and watched her get flustered, laughing a little as he turned away. He browsed the racks, hoping to find a couple decent items until he could access his bank accounts. He would _not_ be caught dead in something unfashionable. Good thing vintage was in right now. 

He was about to go with a plain grey blazer when he heard a smooth, deep, and rich voice calling out to the woman behind the counter. It was a voice that captured his attention, and he instantly turned around. There was a tall, handsome man in front of the counter with a stack of garment bags draped over his arm. Jaemin moved closer, interest piqued, and pretended to examine a rack of shirts.

“I’d like to donate these,” the man said, and Jaemin watched as the shop owner unzipped the garment bag and pulled out a beautifully tailored suit.

“That’s a Devore,” Jaemin said loudly, his jaw dropping in shock. “They’re impossible to find these days.”

“Why, yes,” the man replied with a gorgeous, dimpled smile. He looked as if he stepped out from a high-end magazine, dressed in casual but expensive clothing. “It belonged to my late husband, Doyoung. He was always a fan of high fashion.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jaemin said softly. “Do you mind if I…”

“Of course!” The shop owner slid the garment bag to him. He carefully lifted the suit jacket out of the bag and slid it over his shoulders. It fit him well, surprisingly, and he instantly felt at ease, finally dressed the way he was used to.

“Oh, you look so handsome!” The shop owner cooed, and Jaemin flashed her a grin. 

“Doyoung used to wear this one whenever he took me dancing,” the handsome stranger said. “It really does look good on you. Reminds me of my youth.” The man hardly looked a day over thirty. 

“This is amazing,” Jaemin said, examining himself in the full length mirror on the wall. “I’d love to have it.”

“Doyoung would be happy that such a handsome young man could make use of his old clothes,” the man said. “I have a whole closet full of them at home. I’d be happy to give them all to you.”

“That would be _incredible,_ ” Jaemin said, slightly taken aback by the man’s generosity, but not ungrateful. “Thank you so much, Mr…?”

“Oh, just call me Jaehyun,” the man said, taking the garment bags off the counter and pushing them into Jaemin’s arms. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“No, no,” Jaemin insisted with a charming smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

$$$

Mark walked into the motel with a tray of two coffees, thinking he would treat Jaemin. He did feel bad about having him hole up in such a dingy place, even if he tried not to show it. You couldn’t pay him to stay here for longer than an hour at most.

He narrowly avoided colliding with an enormous, greasy looking man, shivering at the questionable stains on his clothing. He tried not to judge anyone by their appearance, but he couldn’t say this man was hygienic enough for him to come in contact with.

“Hello,” he said politely to the desk clerk eating unidentifiable food. “I’m here to see Jaemin Na?”

“Huh?” The man said, spraying crumbs everywhere.

“Jaemin Na? He checked in yesterday? I was with him? About 5’8, with dark hair?” Mark tried not to flinch when he caught sight of a roach crawling across the counter. The desk clerk stared blankly at him, and he had to restrain himself from yelling. He doubted many people had checked in within the past day.

“Oh!” The clerk exclaimed, his mouth dropping open to reveal masticated food. Mark quickly averted his eyes, his stomach feeling queasy. He no longer wanted his coffee, despite the early hour. “Yeah, he left a note for you.”

“A note?” Mark repeated, but the man was already handing him a torn and yellowed piece of paper, turning damp between his meaty fingers. Mark pinched the very edge, nodding at the clerk in thanks, and opened it to see a short note addressed to him in Jaemin’s neat scrawl.

**5073 Weishen Ave N, Apt #2**

**Mark,**

**I have moved to this address 1.3 miles away.**

**Love,**

**Jaemin.**

Mark stared at the note for a moment. How had Jaemin found a new place so quickly? He crumpled the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket next to the desk. He didn’t bother saying goodbye to the desk clerk, turning on his heel and walking outside. He climbed into his car and typed the address from the note into the GPS.

“Unbelievable,” Mark muttered, then repeated himself when he pulled up in front of a beautiful home, white brick and ornate windows gleaming in the sunlight. He looked around, wondering if he had gotten the wrong place, but this was definitely the address that Jaemin had given him. He pushed open the wrought iron gate and walked up the path to the front door, marvelling at the beautiful carved designs in the wood as he pressed the doorbell. A loud, and _long_ , melody began playing, and Mark found himself growing more and more irritated.

The door finally opened to a uniformed man, and it took Mark a second to realize that this man was most likely a butler. 

“Hello,” the man greeted in a British accent. “How may I help you?”

“I think I’ve got the wrong place,” Mark said warily, taking a step back. “I’m looking for Jaemin Na.”

“You must be Mark,” a velvety voice came from further into the house, and soon a well dressed, chiseled man appeared before him. “Jaemin told me you would be coming.”

“Special Agent Lee,” Mark clarified, looking around the interior of the foyer. There was a finely furnished parlour to his left, and a room that housed expensive art and a grand piano on his right. He eyed the grand staircase and had to bite back a sigh. “Is Jaemin here?”

The man eyed him critically for a moment before breaking out into a beautiful smile. He _had_ to have been a model or something. “He’s upstairs. Sebastian will show you the way.”

“Right,” Mark said slowly as the butler began leading him up the stairs. He paused on the first step, looking back at the handsome man. “You know that’s not just jewelry on his ankle, right? Jaemin’s a felon.”

The man’s smile grew sharper. “So was my husband.”

Mark just nodded, following the butler up the grand staircase and down a hallway. He was directed to another staircase tucked away on the second floor, and he thanked the butler before making his way up. He jogged up the first flight, then slowed down on the second, shaking his head. The whole thing was ridiculous. 

He found himself in front of a single white door, but when he knocked, there was no answer. He pushed it open to reveal a beautifully furnished apartment, the decor just as exquisite as downstairs. He examined the apartment a little more, looking at the paintings on the wall and the large flatscreen TV in front of a leather couch, before he spotted Jaemin sitting out on the balcony.

“Good morning, Mark,” Jaemin said, lowering the newspaper in his hands. He was already dressed in a dapper waistcoat and deep blue slacks, polished loafers perched on a stool. A full breakfast spread was on the table next to him, but Mark was distracted by the view of Manhattan’s skyline. He felt like he could see the entire city from here. “Incredible view, isn’t it?”

“Okay, Jaemin,” Mark grumbled irritably, crossing his arms. “Give it up. How did you con your way into this lovely man’s home?”

“So you’ve met Jaehyun,” Jaemin said delightedly, a grin spreading across his face. “Isn’t he the sweetest? We met at the thrift store, he was donating these gorgeous suits and told me he had a bunch at home. And well, he said nobody had lived in this apartment for years and that he had the space, so I moved in.”

“All this for seven hundred and fifty a month,” Mark said, gaping in disbelief.

Jaemin shrugged. “Initially, he offered the place to me for free, but of course I couldn’t take advantage of his generosity like that. So, seven-fifty a month, and I look after his niece occasionally.”

“His niece,” Mark deadpanned. “He’s got you babysitting?”

Jaemin just pointed behind him, and when Mark turned around, a tall and beautiful girl stepped out on the balcony, tossing her red hair over her shoulder with one hand as the other held a tray of ornate coffee cups. She placed the tray on the table, gave Mark a shy smile, and sat down on one of the lounge chairs, crossing her long legs as she reached for a book folded on the tiny stand next to her.

“Unbelievable,” Mark said for the third time that morning. 

“Why don’t you sit down? Have some coffee and eat a little breakfast?” Jaemin gestured to the empty seat across from him. Mark opened his mouth to protest, but his stomach rumbled, and he remembered he had left his coffee at the motel by accident. This morning, he had woken up late, and Renjun had already been gone. He hadn’t eaten yet, and so he sat down without a word and reached for a cup of coffee, finding a perfectly made cappuccino in his hands. He took a careful sip and nearly moaned when the taste of espresso hit his tongue. 

“It’s good, right?” Jaemin said, smiling at him over the rim of his own mug. “Jaehyun says it’s imported from Italy.”

“Even the fucking coffee is perfect,” Mark muttered, barely restraining himself from slamming the cup on the table. He stood up abruptly from his chair, and Jaemin gave him an infuriatingly knowing smirk. “Come on, we need to get to work.”

“Sure,” Jaemin agreed easily, folding his newspaper neatly and leaving on the table. He took his time standing up, stretching in the morning sun before looking at Jaehyun’s niece still lounging on her chair. “See you later, April.”

April smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

“Let’s _go,_ ” Mark nearly growled, stomping back inside. 

“Whoa, what’s the rush?” Jaemin said with a laugh, grabbing a tie from a rack on his dresser and knotting it at the base of his throat. Mark’s eyes drifted to the pale column of skin before he could stop himself, watching as Jaemin’s deft fingers made quick work of the silk. He coughed a little and averted his eyes, mentally kicking himself.

“We need to get to the Seo Private Bank & Trust as fast as possible,” Mark said, pulling open Jaemin’s door. “We received intel that the Dutchman opened a deposit box there, and we need to get there fast. The bank manager has closed the location for today, but he’s _not_ happy about it.”

“Alright, alright,” Jaemin said, placing a fedora on top of his head.

Mark just stared.

“What?” Jaemin asked, glancing in the mirror.

“What’s with the hat? I thought only bronies wore that shit.”

“First of all, I’m surprised you know what a brony is. Second, it’s my signature look. It’s a classic!” Jaemin exclaimed, trying to usher Mark out of the apartment. Mark shoved his hand away, indignantly straightening his jacket before exiting. Jaemin was so _pushy._ Mark was half tempted to put him behind bars again.

“Jeez, you’re cranky today,” Jaemin teased when they made it outside. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Shut up before I run you over with my car,” Mark threatened. Jaemin just laughed, hopping into the passenger seat with no qualms. The hem of his pants rose up, revealing his ankle monitor. Mark eyed it distrustfully; he was sure Jaemin was working on a way to get it off. He didn’t want to believe that Jaemin would run, but he knew better. 

He sat down behind the wheel, glancing at Jaemin one last time before pulling away from the curb. To his surprise, Jaemin wasn’t chattering away. Instead, he was staring contemplatively out the window, expression troubled under the brim of his ridiculous hat. He was quiet the entire way to the bank. 

“Good morning, Mark,” Special Agent Jungwoo, his usual partner, greeted him. He barely gave Jaemin a second glance, mouth pressed into a flat, unimpressed line.

“Good morning, Jungwoo,” Mark said cheerfully, following him inside. “ERT’s already inside?”

“Preparing to crack the safe open as we speak,” Jungwoo informed him. Mark paused, turning to him with a frown.

“Crack it open?”

“The Seo Bank takes their clientele’s privacy very seriously,” Jungwoo informed him. “Their clients are not required to give up their safe codes.”

“Ridiculous,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. It was banks like this one that kept criminals out of jail, but unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. “Okay, let’s bust it open and get it over with.”

He strolled to the back, not bothering to check if Jaemin was following. Every agent in the vicinity was keeping an eye on him, and the Marshals were tracking his every movement with the anklet. 

One of the FBI’s safe experts was already positioned in front of the deposit box that was supposed to be the Dutchman’s. His sound equipment was hooked up, and on Mark’s command, he began twisting the lock.

Mark paced back and forth impatiently. They’ve been chasing the Dutchman for almost as long as Jaemin, and this was their only lead. If it lead to nothing, the case would go cold. 

_Click._

“Drop three,” the expert said. Mark let out a slow breath.

_Click._

“Drop two.” 

_Click._

“Drop four. All pins down, preparing to open.”

Mark paused. _Three, two, four… three, two, four?!_ “Wait!”

He was too late. The vault exploded with a boom that shook the entire building. Mark coughed out dust, spitting onto the ground as he ran into the vault room and pulled the safe expert out. He was covered in dust, but he seemed to be alright. Which meant Mark didn’t have to feel bad about being pissed. 

“What happened?” The technician coughed. Mark pulled out his handkerchief and passed it over so he could wipe his face.

“I told you to _wait_ and you didn’t wait! Ten thousand man hours to get closer to the Dutchman than we’ve ever been and you blow up my damn evidence!” 

“How did you know that was going to happen?” Lucas, another Special Agent that Mark often worked with, asked. He was a friend, but he admired Mark a lot, and never bothered trying to hide it. 

“The combination was 3-2-4. Take out your phones, tell me what that spells,” Mark huffed, brushing dust off his clothes with his hands.

“FBI,” Jaemin said from behind them before anyone could move. “He knew you were coming.”

“God _dammit,_ ” Mark cursed, kicking at a small piece of rubble. He spotted a red fiber on the technician’s clothes and snatched it off. “Anyone wanna tell me what this is? Huh?”

He received blank faces in return.

“None of you? Come on. How many of you went to Harvard?” Hands went up. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, don’t-- don’t raise your hands, for the love of God.”

“I can tell you what that is.” All heads turned to Jaemin, still standing at the back with his hands in his pocket. He had his lips curved up in a little grin, almost as if he didn’t know he was smiling. His eyes were fastened to the fiber in Mark’s hand, glee evident in his eyes.

“Spit it out, Na, we don’t have all day,” Mark said tiredly.

“It’s a security fiber for the new Canadian hundred dollar bill.”

Mark opened his mouth, but he noticed Jungwoo pushing through the crowd of agents with a slim file in his hands, looking grim. Jungwoo rarely ever looked anything but unhappy, so something was definitely going on. 

“Jungwoo?”

“We’ve got a hit on Snow White. You need to get to the airport, ASAP.”

“Snow White. The phrase you decoded from a suspected Dutchman associate,” Jaemin said. Mark gave him a look, and he raised an eyebrow. “What? I did my homework.”

“Never mind, just…” Mark sighed. “Just get in the car. _Now_.”

“Is he always like this?” Jaemin said to Jungwoo, who ignored him. Mark sighed again, long-suffering, before grabbing Jaemin and hauling him out of the bank. Jaemin seemed content to just stumble along until they made it back to the car, and thankfully decided to keep his mouth shut. 

“Listen, if this is going to work, you’re gonna need to _behave._ Don’t go pissing off any of my agents. Especially Jungwoo. He’s not as patient as I am,” Mark said as they started heading toward the airport.

“Roger that,” Jaemin said with a mock salute. “So, uh. How’s the husband?”

Mark smiled despite himself. “He’s good. He appreciated your birthday cards.”

“Oh, so you got them!” Jaemin said happily. “I’m glad. I spent a long time picking them out, you know.”

“How do you even know my birthday?” Mark asked, swearing under his breath when a taxi driver cut him off.

“I know as much about you as you do me,” Jaemin replied vaguely, and when Mark glanced over at him, he was smiling. 

“I gotta say, that’s mildly terrifying,” Mark joked. “So what about you, no romantic prospects? What about that guy you used to run with… Yangyang?”

“H-how do you know about Yangyang?” 

_Interesting._ This was the first time Mark had managed to catch him off guard since they started their little arrangement. “He’s been on the FBI’s radar the past couple years. He’s your primary fence, isn’t he?”

Jaemin scoffed. “Like I’d tell you. Anyway, Yangyang and I haven’t spoken in _years._ Let’s just say that prison doesn’t make romantic prospects easy.” There was a hint of bitterness in his tone, so Mark decided not to continue, instead changing the subject to something mundane. Jaemin asked a couple questions about Renjun and his job, and Mark answered all of them. They continued like this all the way to the airport, luckily not running into any traffic on the way. _Sometimes miracles do happen_ , Mark mused. 

When they arrived at the airport, one of Mark’s agents, Mina, was already waiting for them. He saw Jaemin’s face light up and rolled his eyes. Trust Jaemin to get excited over any attractive woman in the near vicinity.

“Who’s that?” Jaemin asked.

“Her name is Mina, she’s one of my probationary agents. And she can do _way_ better than you.” 

Jaemin didn’t seem deterred as they approached, offering Mina a charming smile. Mark could tell Mina was trying not to laugh, but she was much more composed than he could ever be.

“You must be Jaemin Na,” Mina said, smiling politely. She didn’t reach out to shake his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. Nice hat.”

Jaemin just grinned.

“Okay, so what do we got?” Mark asked, and Mina’s smile immediately disappeared. He liked that about her. 

“His name’s Alex Phong. Customs flagged him coming in from Spain in response to our Snow White BOLO. They’re not giving him up though, the usual ‘he’s in their custody, not ours’. Less paperwork for you.”

“What’s he carrying?” 

“You’re gonna love this.” Mina led them to a room, empty save for suitcases piled onto a table. Each one of them was filled with books. Old children’s books. Or to be specific, thousands of the same book. Mark picked one up carefully. _Blancanieves y Los Siete Enanos._

“Snow White and her Seven Little Men,” Jaemin translated.

“What do we know about this guy?” Mark asked, putting the book back in the suitcase.

“He says he’s a rare book dealer,” Mina said. “His paperwork checks out. He brought in the same books in the same quantity three times. He declared them each time.”

Jaemin was examining a copy, his brows furrowed in concentration. “They’re not limited runs or special editions. They can’t be worth much. Why go through all this trouble to bring them here?”

“He sure is nervous despite having all the paperwork,” Mina commented.

“I want to talk to him,” Mark said.

“I’ll set it up.”

$$$

Mark wasn’t new to interrogations, but each one always had him on edge. Still, he prided himself on his composure, and when he caught sight of Alex Phong, he was pleased to find that he had a few inches on him. Phong was sitting at a small rickety table, sweating bullets. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, fidgeting with the cloth.

“Mark Lee, FBI,” Mark introduced himself, not bothering to sit. 

“Oh, wow, FBI?” Phong shifted in his seat, clearly nervous, but Mark was surprised when his face went blank. Clearly, he wasn’t planning to cooperate and spill all his secrets. 

“So, you’re a rare book dealer,” Mark said casually, just to see the reaction.

Phong’s expression shifted into one of annoyance. “Yes, as I’ve said to, oh, just about _everyone_ here. I specialize in the import and sale of rare books.”

“So Snow White? In Spanish?”

Mark laughed internally when Phong’s lips flattened and his eyes narrowed into a glare. “Snow White wasn’t created by Disney, Agent Lee. There are a few stories that predate _Steamboat Willie._ ”

“Yes, like Alexander Pushkin’s _‘Tale of the White Princess and the Seven Knights’._ Is that what you mean?” Phong looked caught off guard. Mark placed his hands heavily on the table, not exactly slamming them, but it had the desired effect. Phong flinched away, and Mark could hear his breath coming faster. “What are the books for, Phong?”

Before he could get an answer, the door burst open, and a tall, well-dressed man stormed in, a hefty briefcase in one hand.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to my client. Constitution and all,” the man said. _Fuck._ There was no way Mark could get anything out of Phong now. He scowled, brushing past the lawyer and slamming the door behind him. He found Mina and Jaemin nearby. Mina was talking to a customs agent, and Jaemin was watching them with interest. Mark paused for a moment, but Jaemin didn’t seem to really be into Mina. His gaze almost seemed calculative, and Mark wondered what was going on in his head. It almost seemed as if he felt… threatened by Mina.

“No dice?” Jaemin asked, and Mark sighed, schooling his expression into something more mild as Mina walked over. 

“Where’s the customs inspector?” Mark asked her, and she pointed him to a harried looking man.

“Jaemin was right, the books aren’t expensive at all. You can pick them up for a few bucks on eBay.” 

“So why go through all this trouble?” Mark wondered. He walked over to the customs inspector. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me the guy lawyered up? The second he makes that call, I can’t talk to him.” 

The customs inspector gave him a confused look. “But he didn’t call anyone.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Well then how did his lawyer know—“

_Wait._

“Fuck,” he breathed, and immediately took off in a sprint, crashing into the room Phong was in only to find him slumped against the table, a hypodermic needle jabbed in his neck. He didn’t have to look twice to know that Alex Phong was dead.

“I need paramedics in here now!” The customs inspector barked. Mark cursed, running a hand through his hair.

“God _dammit_ ,” he growled. “Nobody frisked the damn lawyer?!”

$$$

Jaemin examined the books with a metal ruler, flipping the pages back and forth. Mark was pacing around the room with another book in his hands. Jaemin had never seen him so stressed. He looked like he was a second away from tearing his hair out. 

“Okay so we got a dead book dealer, a killer lawyer, and three hundred worthless books. What the hell is the Dutchman’s interest in these?”

Jaemin ignored Mark and turned back to the front page before the title. The blank top sheet of the book. An idea struck, and he flipped between the top sheet and the title page. _Published 1944 in Madrid._

“This is what he’s after,” Jaemin announced, carefully sliding the ruler under the top sheet to remove it from the book.

“What? Blank paper?” Mina asked from where she was examining another book. Mark stopped pacing to stare at Jaemin in disbelief.

“It’s not just any paper. It’s a piece of 1944 Spanish press. Whatever he planned to counterfeit was originally printed on paper like this.”

“Are you sure?” Mina asked.

Jaemin shrugged. “It’s what I would do.”

“Alright, alright. This is good. This is really good. How many shipments did Phong make prior to this one?”

“Three,” Mina answered.

“Two sheets per book is six hundred,” Jaemin rattled off.

“Too many for paintings, not enough for currency.” Mark frowned, tugging at his hair. “I bet our dead book dealer knew. Where’s his things?”

“Right here,” Mina said, pushing a small bin across the table. Mark rummaged through the items and pulled out a wallet. He leafed through the contents and tossed a pass onto the table.

“This is where he went the day before he left for Spain.”

Jaemin leaned forward with interest to peer at the words stamped across the front of the card. 

It was a visitor’s pass to The National Archives. 

$$$

“Special Agent Mark Lee, FBI,” Mark said to the archivist that greeted them. He was a squirrely looking man with thick glasses, bad posture and a bald head. 

“Vincent DeLonge, curator and archivist,” the man replied, shaking his hand. Mark grimaced when he felt clammy skin against his own, subtly wiping his palm against his pants. Jaemin snickered behind him. They were directed to a small, brightly lit office. Jaemin immediately flicked on the desk lamp, swivelling the magnifying glass contraption and adjusting it to his liking. “Here it is. This is what he came to see.”

Mark watched with interest as Jaemin pulled on disposable gloves, carefully taking the parchment from the curator and laying it on the desk.

“The Spanish Victory Bond,” Jaemin said.

“Mhm, yes indeed,” Vincent said, puffing up his chest. “He took several photos. I believe he said he was planning to write a book.”

Jaemin adjusted the magnifying glass again, shifting the bond in the light. He laid it flat on the desk and held his hand out to Mark, silently asking for the top sheet from the book. When he unfolded it and placed it over the bond, it was a perfect fit.

He handed the sheet back to Mark.

“It’s a Goya,” Jaemin said.

“Yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Vincent beamed proudly.

“And you said it had a fascinating history?”

“That’s correct. The U.S issued it to support the Spanish underground in their battle against the Axis. Very few have ever been redeemed. There’s speculation that entire boxes were captured and hidden away in the caves of Altamira.”

“Entire boxes,” Mark deadpanned, exchanging glances with Jaemin. This, indeed, seemed exactly what an expert forger and conman would be after. 

“Yes,” Vincent said, smiling dreamily. “That would be quite something, wouldn’t it? This is the last surviving copy.”

“Except it’s a forgery,” Jaemin said with a wry smile. Mark’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Vincent looked just as stunned. 

“N-no, that’s not possible,” the archivist stammered. 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin passed Vincent the bond. “Ah, it’s the ink. This is an iron-gal dye mixed to match the period colours. Except it hasn’t dried yet. You can still smell the gum arabic.”

Vincent paled. “Th-that can’t be. This has been here since _1952_.” 

Jaemin gave him a pitying smile. “It’s been here less than a week.” 

$$$

He never thought he would find himself in a conference room at the FBI White Collar Division headquarters, and certainly not working alongside Mark’s team of agents, but Jaemin couldn’t deny that it was sort of interesting.

Absentmindedly playing with a Rubik’s cube, Jaemin watched as Mark debriefed the situation to his agents. He was actually kind of impressive, standing up front, cool and composed as he spoke. Jaemin made fun of him a lot, but he was good at his job.

“So, Phong makes two trips. The first time, he takes a picture of the bond. The second time, he steals the original and replaces it with his copy. Can we get a confirmation on that?”

“The timed ink identification test puts the age of the forgery at approximately six days,” Lucas said. “That coincides with Phong’s visit.”

“We’re pulling surveillance footage to back it up,” said Jungwoo.

“Perfect,” Mark said. “So the question is, why go through the trouble of making a perfect forgery on the right kind of paper only to stick it back in The National Archives?” 

Jaemin tossed the Rubik’s cube up and caught it again, then paused. “Is the bond still negotiable?”

“It’s a zero option, so it never expires. What’s it worth?” Mark asked.

“Thousand dollars face value,” Lucas replied. “Drawing nine percent interest.”

“Compounded for sixty four years,” Jungwoo said, reaching for a calculator.

Jaemin beat him to it. “That’s $248,000.”

Mark whistled. “Quarter of a million. And he’s got six hundred sheets.”

They looked at him expectantly. Jaemin sighed and quickly calculated it in his head. “About a hundred and fifty million, give or take.”

“He’d be a rich man if he could pull this off,” Mark said in slight disbelief, shaking his head. “But that still doesn’t tell us why he would take out the real bond and replace it with a forgery. Why go through all that effort?”

Jaemin leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe it does. What if he claimed he found boxes of the original bonds? How would they be authenticated?”

“They’d be taken to the Archives and compared to the original,” Mark said.

Jaemin spread out his hands. “Which has already been switched out with one of his forgeries.” 

It finally dawned on Mark, and his eyes widened. “It’d be a perfect match. This is good. This is the biggest lead we’ve ever had. Okay, let’s—“

He was interrupted by a phone going off. Mark dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone, paling when he caught sight of the contact name, which meant it could only be his husband. 

“Okay, everyone out. Quickly, quickly.” Jaemin sighed, following the other agents out of the conference room, though he lingered in the doorway. Mark’s back was to him when he answered the phone. “Hi, baby. Would you believe me if I said I was on my way home?”

Silence.

“I hope you didn’t make dinner.” 

Jaemin glanced at the clock and winced. It was almost eight PM. Mark’s husband had probably already made dinner. 

“We’re onto something, Injun. I know, I will. I’ll be home soon. Twenty minutes. Thirty at most. I will drive safely. Bye honey, love you too.” 

Jaemin slipped away before Mark could catch him eavesdropping. His chest felt just a little bit hollow, but he ignored it. He was always good at ignoring what hurt him most.

“Ready to go?” Mark asked a couple minutes later. Jaemin discarded his Rubik’s cube on the desk, completely solved, and pulled on his jacket. He swept over his assigned cubicle with his eyes, making sure he hadn’t left anything behind, before following Mark into the elevator.

“Plans for the weekend?” Jaemin asked casually after he had buckled himself in. 

“Oh, you know. The usual errands. Definitely gonna watch the game,” Mark replied, sounding distracted.

“With Renjun?” Jaemin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mark smiled. “Yeah, he’s totally into it! He’s a fan of the Knicks, though I’m more of a Raptors gut myself.”

“Uh huh,” Jaemin said. “Even on your anniversary?”

The car jerked to a halt, the seat belt digging into Jaemin’s ribs. He swiveled his head to glare, but faltered when he caught Mark’s wide-eyed expression.

“Fuck,” Mark breathed. “I swear I see it coming every year, and every single time something comes up at work and I forget.”

Jaemin leaned back in the seat, rubbing at his sore ribs. “Relax, you still have a few days.”

Mark hit his head against the steering wheel before heaving a huge sigh and driving again. “No, I need way more than a few days if I want to plan something special.”

“Well,” Jaemin said, trying to be helpful. “What does he like?”

Mark was silent.

“Mark?”

“I’m drawing a blank,” Mark said, running his hands through his hair.

“Seriously? You don’t know what your own husband likes? When you were chasing me you knew my shoe size, my wine preference—“

“That was _work,_ you can’t compare the two!”

“What, so relationships aren’t work?” Jaemin said, mostly to tease, but Mark turned on him with a glare.

“Oh, don’t give me that! What would you know? You’ve never had a successful relationship in your life!”

Jaemin was stunned. 

“Thanks for reminding me,” Jaemin said flatly, and as soon as Mark stopped the car, he popped open the door and hopped out.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that—“

“Yes you did,” Jaemin cut him off, slamming the car door so hard the vehicle shook. He stormed out of the street, clenching his fists. He was so angry he was shaking. In all the years they’ve known each other — when he was running and Mark was chasing him — Jaemin never, not once, used Mark’s vulnerable spots against him. He could have, because he knew them all. He knew of Mark’s biggest weak point, after all. But he didn’t, because there was a line, and he never wanted to cross it. He might be a criminal, but he wasn’t cruel. Clearly, Mark didn’t feel the same way.

He wondered if there were lines Mark wasn’t willing to cross, or if he would do or say anything if it meant getting the upper hand.

$$$

Jaemin sensed a presence in the house as soon as he stepped through the front door. He knew it wasn’t Jaehyun, who was spending the night at a friend’s. He grabbed a 9-iron golf club from the caddy by the door and inched down the hall towards the living room, preparing to swing.

“Back from behind bars, but still chained on a leash like a dog,” came an all too familiar voice, and his longtime friend stood up from the couch, turning around to face Jaemin.

“Goddammit Donghyuck,” Jaemin swore, striding over to the lightswitch and flicking it on. “The hell are you doing here, sitting in the dark like that?”

“The light’s how they find you, man,” Donghyuck joked, batting his eyelashes. He still looked the same as Jaemin remembered, though he had lost a little bit of the baby fat that stubbornly clung to his cheeks despite the fact that he was the same age as Jaemin. His posture was better too, and his hair was dyed an ash brown, curling past his ears.

“How did you even get in here?” Jaemin demanded incredulously, though he was secretly pleased. He hadn’t been able to send word to Donghyuck that he was out, but Donghyuck had eyes everywhere in Manhattan and would have found out sooner or later. 

“I used this,” Donghyuck said, making a menacing fist and flexing his bicep. When Jaemin just stared at him blankly, he sighed. “I _knocked,_ Jaemin. Jaehyun let me in. He’s a hunk of a man, when are you gonna jump on that?”

“I’m _not,_ ” Jaemin snapped. Donghyuck, while his closest friend and one of the only people he trusted with his life, had the tendency to get on his nerves. It was rather irritating, but at the same time he had missed this. 

“Not into DILFs?” 

“Shut up,” Jaemin said, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for coming, though.”

“What was I gonna do? Not come?” Donghyuck said. “Now let me see it.”

Jaemin sat down on the couch next to him, propping his leg up onto the coffee table and pulling up his pant leg to show Donghyuck his tracking anklet. He barely took one look before he was shaking his head, the little dangly earrings hanging from his lobes whipping around his face. 

“You can’t pick this?”

“Nope. You flew too close to the sun this time, Jaem. They’ve burned your wings.”

Jaemin sighed, putting his leg down and pulling out the forgery of the Spanish Victory Bond, placing it on the table instead. “Whatever, we’ll work on that later. For now, I need you to take a look at this.”

If there was anyone who knew just as much about art and forgery than him, it was Donghyuck. A criminal mastermind, and an absolute genius, albeit an antisocial one. Donghyuck brushed a lock of hair behind his ear and leaned in to examine the bond, letting out a low whistle.

“This is good work.”

“I need you to help me figure out who made this.”

“It’s superb,” Donghyuck marveled, completely ignoring Jaemin as he tended to do. Jaemin felt a smile tugging at his lips -- some things never changed. “You know the worst thing about art forgeries? You can’t take credit for your work.”

A lightbulb went off in Jaemin’s head.

“Or maybe,” Jaemin said, “you can.”

$$$ 

“Renjun? Baby?”

Mark called, stepping out of the bathroom. He peered down the hall for any signs of his husband, but couldn’t find him anywhere. He was most likely downstairs eating breakfast. Mark crept into their room and began rummaging through Renjun’s things, looking for a hint on what to do for their anniversary.

Guilt was building up inside of him. For some reason, he couldn’t remember anything Renjun liked, even though he was usually the one to hold onto those things. He wasn’t really romantic, and Renjun knew that before marrying him, but he didn’t want to be the husband that stopped paying attention to their spouse. And on top of that, he still felt bad about what he had said to Jaemin last night. Criminal or not, Jaemin was his coworker, and he had crossed a line. 

_Do you really see him as just a coworker though?_ A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Renjun’s piped up. Mark ignored it, going through Renjun’s photobooks. He paused on a photo of them on vacation and smiled sadly. They hadn’t had more than a couple days off in a year, and definitely didn’t have any time to go on vacation.

“You really haven’t changed at all,” Mark whispered, touching the photo over the plastic film. “I’m the one who’s changed.”

His phone went off in his pocket, and he hurriedly stuffed the photo album back on the shelf before digging his phone out from his pants, hitting ‘Accept’ without looking at the caller ID.

“Lee.”

“It’s Lucas. Na’s anklet has been activated. Is he with you?”

_Fuck._ Mark was not in the mood for this.

“No,” he spat. “I’m on my way.”

“Jungwoo’s pulling up his location now.”

Mark hung up, shoving his phone in his pocket and checking for his keys before he started down the stairs. He had just woken up a half hour ago and his day already wasn’t going well. He could feel the wrinkles in his forehead creasing his skin and sighed. He was going to be bald by the time he hit thirty five, with the amount of stress he’s had to deal with.

“Injunnie, I have to go. Jaemin is outside his radius.”

He paused on the last step when he heard laughter in the living room. One was familiar, Renjun’s sweet, high laugh that still gave Mark butterflies, but the other was familiar for a completely different reason.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Mark muttered, pulling out his phone and calling Lucas. “Na’s with me.”

“Uh... you sure?” Lucas asked.

“Pretty damn sure,” Mark deadpanned, hanging up. He walked into the living room to find Renjun and Jaemin on the couch together, the forged bond on their coffee table. Jaemin had a mug in his hands, pale pink and printed with Moomin’s face, and he looked so happy. Renjun was smiling too, his eyes curved into crescents, and Mark was really trying to stay mad, but how could he?

“Good morning, Mark,” Renjun greeted him, eyes twinkling. 

“Mark,” Jaemin said, expression unreadable.

“You’re on my couch,” Mark stated dryly.

“Yeah, I came to show you something, and Renjun invited me to have coffee. Frankly, I’m surprised that you have such an amazing husband.”

“Mhm, I like him, too. Now get off my couch. How did you even get here?”

“I took a cab,” Jaemin said with a shrug, as if he was completely unaware of the hell the U.S. Marshalls were going to bring on Mark because his CI left his two mile radius. 

“You activated your tracker. You’re in my house, on my couch, with my husband,” Mark said in disbelief. He was tempted to pinch his arm, wondering if he was dreaming. 

“Oh honey, we were just chatting,” Renjun said, but he was clearly amused. Mark sighed, dropping into the armchair across from them. Teddy, their dog, trotted over to Jaemin and put his head in Jaemin’s lap. Mark pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. It was far too early for this. 

“I’m putting you back in prison,” Mark said to Jaemin, who just grinned.

“I know who the Dutchman is.”

Mark just stared, his jaw to the floor.

“His name is Minho Lee,” Jaemin continued, as if he hadn’t solved a case that Mark had been working on for two years. “He’s an art restorer. One of the best in the world, actually, but his own work never took off. He’s particularly good at _Goya_ restorations.” He tapped the bond on the table. “That’s what this is, Mark. This bond is him showing off.”

“It’s an interesting theory,” Mark admitted. “How do we prove it?”

Jaemin leaned forward excitedly. “He signed it.”

Mark scoffed. “I think we might have noticed a signature in the corner.”

Renjun and Jaemin exchanged glances, and Renjun nudged him in the side. “Go on, show him!”

“Look at the pants on the Spanish peasant,” Jaemin said, holding a magnifying glass above the bond. “Do you see that? The initials M and L. Right there, see?”

Mark did see. “I don’t know, that’s a bit of a stretch.”

“This bond is a masterpiece,” Jaemin gushed. Mark rolled his eyes at the admiration in his voice. Jaemin rarely held anyone in high regards except for criminals he considered close to his level. “If I had done something this good, I would have signed it in a heartbeat. Hey, the forgeries you caught me on, I signed those.”

“Where?” Mark asked, and received an eye roll from Jaemin in return.

“Look at the bank seal under polarized light sometime,” Jaemin said. “Anyway, Minho Lee is doing a church restoration on Third Street. We can stop by on our way to the office.”

Mark sighed, feeling like he was going to regret this. “Fine. Meet me in the car.”

Jaemin didn’t move.

“I’m going to say goodbye to my husband now,” Mark said loudly, and realization dawned on Jaemin’s face. He finally stood up, setting his coffee mug on the saucer Renjun had put out for him.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Jaemin said. His smile struck Mark as slightly odd. It wasn’t his usual charming smile, that came off as a combination of greasy and flirty, but somehow still looked genuine. This smile was softer at the edges.

“Good to meet you too, after all these years,” Renjun said with a smile of his own, and Jaemin finally left. Mark immediately strode over to the couch, tugging Renjun to his feet and wrapping him in a hug.

“He’s so annoying,” Mark complained, allowing himself to whine a little bit as he tucked his face into Renjun’s neck. He could feel Renjun shaking with laughter, though he did rub soothing circles into Mark’s back.

“I dunno, I find him kind of charming,” Renjun said. Mark pulled back in surprise. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I just meant he’s really sweet. I can tell he’s a bit of a menace, though.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know,” Mark joked, leaning in for a kiss. “Okay, let’s hope I can wrap up this case and come home early. I miss your face.”

“I miss you too,” Renjun said softly, stealing one more kiss. Mark hugged him again, burying his face in Renjun’s soft sparrow-brown hair and getting a whiff of his floral shampoo. “Now go catch a bad guy.”

“I already have,” Mark said, but he let go. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“See you tonight,” Renjun promised, hand over his heart.

Mark placed his hand over his own heart, memorized Renjun’s smile, and left. 

$$$

Though the church hadn’t been fully restored, it was beautiful. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting coloured spotlights on the paintings of the walls and ceilings. Several men were hard at work, and Jaemin’s hands twitched. He hadn’t done a project like this in a while. 

“Sorry, gentlemen, this church is closed for restoration,” a priest said, approaching them with a frown on his face. He was a thin stick of a man, but his thick bushy eyebrows formed an intimidating scowl.

“May I just talk to you for a moment?” Jaemin said before Mark turned around and left. He guided the priest further down the aisle, away from Mark. “Father, my best friend is having a crisis of the soul. He’s been tempted by his beautiful assistant at work. I fear that he will make a mistake he cannot return from.”

“It’s very common with men these days,” the priest murmured understandingly.

“Please, Father. I need to confront him. He’s a mess, but he’s very spiritual. I know this is the place where my words will have the most effect. This is where he was married, Father,” Jaemin lied. They both turned to Mark, who smiled at them cluelessly. Jaemin had to force back a snort.

“Alright,” the priest sighed. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you, Father. Thank you so much.” The priest walked away, and Jaemin returned to Mark’s side. “We’ve got five minutes. Better make this quick.”

“Did you just lie to a priest?”

“Do you think Mina is attractive?”

“I guess?”

“Then we’re good,” Jaemin replied with an easy smile, leading Mark over to a wall at the front of the room, still in the process of being restored. “This is… extraordinary work. Wow.”

“Very nice,” Mark said sarcastically. Jaemin chose to ignore him, his eyes scanning the beautiful paintings. “So if this Minho Lee is as good as you say, why have I never heard of him?”

“You only know the second-rate criminals,” Jaemin answered. “The ones who got caught.”

“So what does that say about you?” Mark asked. Jaemin scowled, annoyed.

“It says there’s an exception to every rule.” Finally spotting what he was looking for, he pointed to the hem of a dress on a painted woman. “Look, M and L. I told you. Right there.”

“Maybe,” Mark said skeptically, leaning in closer. Jaemin was struck with the temptation to bash Mark’s face into the wall, however handsome it may be.

“What do you mean, _maybe?_ That’s clearly an M and an L. Are you blind?”

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” _Shit._ They turned around to find a dark haired man dressed in a long brown coat, his sleeves rolled up to reveal paint splattered arms. Jaemin had to admit that the man was attractive, but there was a look in his eyes that he didn’t like. There was no doubt that this was Minho Lee. He turned to Jaemin, eyes narrowing. “Your face is very familiar. Perhaps I’ve seen it on the news -- or maybe a Most Wanted web page.”

“Jaemin Na,” Jaemin said cordially, offering a hand. Minho stared at it, lips pursed, and gave him a sarcastic half-smile.

“Forgive me if I don’t shake hands with an art thief.”

“I was never arrested for art theft,” Jaemin said through gritted teeth. 

“Not arrested, no,” Minho said, shaking his head. Dark hair fell across his eyes, obstructing them from view. “But as I recall you were known as _quite_ the Renaissance criminal. So you can understand my concern with you being around my work and in my space.” He turned to Mark. “And you are…?”

“Just a friend,” Mark said.

“Well, _friend_ ,” Minho stressed. “This church is closed. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jaemin smiled sharply, grabbing Mark’s arm and pulling him away. There was something about Minho that had him on edge, and though he wasn’t the biggest fan of Mark, he didn’t want him to become a target.

“Please tell me you saw that,” Jaemin whispered.

“It’s definitely worth investigating,” Mark admitted as they started down the aisle, passing by the priest.

“Listen to the Spirit, son, not the flesh,” the priest cautioned Mark. Jaemin winced a little, schooling his expression into something neutral when Mark shot him a look.

“The heck was that all about?” Mark asked when they stepped outside.

Jaemin just grinned. 

$$$

Mark was poring over papers in his office while Jaemin played with his Rubik’s cube. He was looking through Renjun’s credit card bills, trying to find something, _anything_ for their anniversary. Time was running out, and so were his ideas. He barely had time to _eat,_ these days, but he really wanted to do something special. 

“What are you doing?” Jaemin finally asked, placing his solved Rubik’s cube on Mark’s desk. He pulled a miniature unsolved Rubik’s cube out of his pocket and got to work solving it. 

“I’m looking through Renjun’s visa bill,” Mark murmured.

“Seriously? You’re stalking your own husband?” Mark just glared, and Jaemin went back to his Rubik’s cube. A few seconds later, he placed the solved cube next to the other. Mark sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Look, you want my advice?” Mark was about to snap, _no, I do not want your advice,_ but Jaemin continued before he could get a word out. “Renjun seems like a simple man. He loves you a lot. He probably just wants to spend time with you.”

Stunned, Mark fell back in his chair. Somehow, in just one meeting, Jaemin had Renjun all figured out. And the worst part was that he was right. Renjun _was_ simple. He was easy to please, and yet Mark still struggled to do it. But spending time together… it had been a while since he had managed to get any time off. Maybe after this case was wrapped up.

The door to his office opened, and Jungwoo wandered in with a file in his hands. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. And just in time.

“Hey, Woo. What’ve you got?”

“Lee is planning to leave the country. He booked a flight through a private charter company in Barcelona for the nineteenth.”

“Fuck. One week. Damn it, seeing Jaemin must have tipped him off.” Mark rubbed at his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. Closing this case was _not_ going to be easy. He was going to die from stress before he could even _think_ of requesting time off. 

“He’s going to Spain, that has to be something,” Jaemin said, grabbing one of the Rubik’s cubes and scrambling it. 

“Lee’s impressive as hell,” Jungwoo said. “A lot of international holdings but he keeps clean.”

“I want every available agent on this. You know the best ones, steal them if you have to. I want to know every single detail about this guy and I don’t want any excuses. If anything gets in your way--”

“Forge your signature. Always do,” Jungwoo said with a wink.

“Perfect,” Mark said, and Jungwoo left his office with a determined look on his face. Jaemin set down the Rubik’s cube, once again completely solved. “If you’re right about Minho, we have one week to connect him to the forgery. If we lose him on the nineteenth… you’re back behind bars, Jaemin. I can’t save you.”

$$$

Jaemin collapsed on the couch in the apartment with a sigh, picking up a glass of wine that Donghyuck had left out for him.

“You’re late,” Donghyuck complained, already pouring himself another glass. He looked nice today, although Jaemin knew he hadn’t gone anywhere. He was wearing a chunky cable knit sweater and fitted blue pants, and his hair was styled out of his face.

“Give me a break,” Jaemin sighed. “I’m a working man now.”

“So?” Donghyuck asked impatiently, curling his legs underneath him and taking a sip from his glass.

“We were right about Minho.”

“Of course we were right,” Donghyuck said with a scoff.

“I fucked up, though,” Jaemin admitted. “He saw me. I have one week to tie him to the bonds, or I’m back in jail.”

“No, no, no. You can’t go back. We said we were going to do one final score.”

“You’re still going on about that?” Jaemin asked with a laugh. Donghyuck always talked about it, even before Jaemin had gotten caught. One final score, and they would retire with millions in their pockets, on a private island resort. Jaemin had fantasized about it a lot when he was in prison. 

“Of course I am!” Donghyuck said, looking scandalized. “Don’t tell me you’ve given up on it now that you’re on the straight and narrow.”

“Fuck no,” Jaemin said, pouring himself more wine and relaxing against the back of the couch. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I’ve got my eye on something,” Donghyuck said. “I’ll let you know when I have more information on its whereabouts. Then, we’re buying our own personal paradise.”

“Our own personal paradise,” Jaemin mused, holding out his glass for a toast. “I like the sound of that.”

Donghyuck grinned, and the clinking of glass had never sounded so sweet.

$$$

Mark looked up from the confirmation email when Jaemin knocked on his door, striding into his office without waiting for his answer. He decided to let it slide, too happy and excited for his anniversary present for Renjun. He had talked to Taeil about getting time off, and had managed to get five days in the week after the next. He immediately called Renjun’s secretary about clearing his schedule, and spontaneously booked a flight to Belize with a suite at a beachfront hotel in Sarteneja.

“I found my gift for Renjun,” Mark announced.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “I found Minho Lee.”

Mark shut off his computer and sat down. “You first.”

“There’s this warehouse, down by the docks. Lee runs it through a shell corporation out of Guatemala.”

Jaemin Na was an impressive person. Mark knew this like the back of his hand. He was talented, intelligent, and had an extensive network that reached all around the world. But somehow, Jaemin still managed to render him speechless every single time. 

“We didn’t know about this, how did you?”

Jaemin smiled. “I don’t think you rely on rumour as much as I do.”

$$$

The information checked out.

Of course, Jaemin never had any doubts. Donghyuck had never steered him wrong before, and last night when he had passed Jaemin a folded piece of paper with an address on it, he immediately knew that the warehouse was where he would find Minho.

Unfortunately, he was working with the FBI now, which meant he had to take Mark with him. They were on the docks now, approaching the warehouse. It was practically deserted, so Jaemin wasn’t worried about being spotted. It was easy to find the right building, but he pulled Mark to the side when he noticed two guards. He was about to suggest a diversion tactic when he heard a familiar noise coming from the heavy metal door beside them.

He pressed his ear against the door and sure enough, he heard it again. “Mark, do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Mark whispered back.

“It’s kind of like a rhythmic swishing sound. That’s a press! Damn it, Mark, that’s a printing press. He’s printing bonds in there right now, you can hear it!”

“How long until they’re done?” Mark asked.

Jaemin thought for a moment. “A multicolor print job as complicated as the Goya… test proofs, ink formulation, perfection registration… he’ll be running it for days.”

Mark pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear. “Jungwoo? I need recording equipment down here immediately.”

Jaemin heard Jungwoo’s “you got it, boss” filtering out from the tinny speaker, but he was too busy listening to the printing press. He wished they could just bust in there, but they had to go by protocol. It was ridiculous. Minho Lee was _right there._

“Minho is our guy, but we still don’t have a warrant,” Mark hissed.

“We know the bonds are there, just open the door!” Jaemin whispered. There was no way he was going to let Minho get away. Not when his freedom was riding on it. 

“Ever heard of Warrant Law? You should read up on it. All I’ve got is sound coming out of a warehouse and no way to link him to the bond! I’ve got to talk to your friend.”

“Friend?” Jaemin repeated warily.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Your informant. The one who gave you the address. What, you think I’m an idiot?”

Jaemin stayed quiet.

“I have to know how he connected Minho to the warehouse. Come on, Jaemin. You’ve got to trust me,” Mark insisted. Jaemin closed his eyes. _I do. And that’s the problem._ He opened them again.

“Okay, fine. I’ll bring you to him. First thing tomorrow.”

$$$

Jaemin was lying in bed, reading up on Warrant Law as Mark had suggested. His mind was racing a mile a minute as he read, formulating a plan in his mind. The air conditioning was cool against his bare skin, but he paid no mind to it, flipping through the pages. 

There was no way in hell that Minho Lee was getting away with his crimes, not when Jaemin had to suffer for his own. Not when Jaemin’s freedom depended on putting Minho behind bars. He had to admit that he was also feeling a little bit competitive. He had managed to get away with crimes that led to enormous sums of money, but never a hundred and fifty million dollars. If Minho pulled it off, it would have him rising up in the ranks and making him a big name. And a big name was everything. Sure, staying on the down low and off the FBI’s radar was crucial, but people don’t help the unknown because there are too many risks. Jaemin needed his network to stay as _his_ network, and not anyone else’s. 

The fact was that Jaemin couldn’t afford to let Minho Lee get away. Besides, helping the FBI was his job now, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do his job well.

Rolling onto his stomach, he skimmed the next passage and something caught his eye. He immediately sat up, pulling the book onto his lamp and adjusting his glasses to read better. 

He had his plan.

Jaemin slammed the book shut and slid off the bed, hurriedly getting dressed. The sun was already starting to rise, and he needed to be down by the docks as soon as possible. Jaemin buttoned his shirt, wrapped a belt around his waist, and slid a blazer over his shoulders, adjusting the collar to his liking and flashing a smile at his reflection in the mirror.

He had a criminal to catch.

$$$

Mark’s phone rang when he was eating breakfast.

He was half-tempted to drop it into his orange juice, but one look from Renjun had him picking up with a sigh. He never really managed to sit down for a full meal in the mornings with his husband. He either had to leave early, or Renjun had to leave early, and their schedules rarely aligned. 

“Lucas, what’s up?” Mark asked, dabbing his mouth.

“Mark? It’s Jaemin. He’s outside his radius.”

“ _Damn it._ ” Why now? He had just seen Jaemin yesterday, and they had been working all day. There was no way Jaemin had any time to plan an escape. Where could he have possibly gone? What resources could he possibly have had access to? Mark wasn’t stupid -- he knew that Jaemin had an entire treasure trove of stolen art and jewelry that they never discovered. But could he have really been able to liquidate his assets in such a short period of time? 

“We’re pinpointing his location now.”

“Good, keep me updated,” Mark said, hanging up and getting to his feet.

“What’s going on?” Renjun asked, looking concerned. Teddy barked from under the table in solidarity, and it made Mark smile a little despite the situation. But his face quickly turned grim when 

“He ran.”

$$$

Jaemin approached the warehouse on the docks where Minho was printing the bonds, a fancy-looking camera in his hands. Of course, it only _looked_ fancy -- no way was he bringing a top quality camera when it was probably going to get destroyed.

He inched closer, spotting the guards and beginning to take pictures just as they turned to notice him. He heard one of them shout, and suddenly he was surrounded by three burly men, covered in tattoos and piercings. One of them, he noted with interest, had a gold tooth, but he didn’t get a close look before his arm was seized.

“The hell ya doin’?! You can’t be here!” Another shouted in his face. Jaemin tried not to cough at the disgusting scent of tobacco flooding his nostrils.

“Oh! I’m taking a class over at the Annex,” Jaemin bullshitted, “and pictures of rusty metal are a surefire A. You know how it is.”

Another hand wrapped around his bicep, dragging him into the warehouse. He pretended to stumble in order to gain some time, slowly swivelling his head to examine his surroundings. Sure enough, there were boxes filled with _Blancanieves y Los Siete Enanos_ everywhere. The printing press was still running, its familiar rhythmic sound filling the air as the bonds were being printed.

The three men marched him into an office. Jaemin eyed the glass and smiled to himself. This was getting to be almost _too_ easy.

“Go get Minho!” One of the men barked, and soon enough Minho was striding around the corner with Gold Tooth trailing behind him. Jaemin yanked the office door shut and locked it.

“Why the hell did you bring him inside?!” Minho yelled, rushing over to the door.

“But, sir, he was taking pictures,” Gold Tooth protested. 

Another man, one with a snake tattoo on his face, began slamming on the door, a gun in his hand. “Open the fucking door! You’re a dead man.”

Jaemin smiled, rapping on the glass. “That sounds like inch-thick Lexan.”

Minho signalled the third man and he ran off. “Keys are on the way, Na.”

Jaemin ignored him, sitting on top of the desk and surveying the office. It was actually quite nice. Perhaps he should consider getting an office of his own to work in. He hated the cubicle they had given him at headquarters. 

“This is pretty nice,” he murmured to himself before turning to Minho. “You shouldn’t have signed the bonds, Minho. I’m no stranger to vanity, so I understand the impulse.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Na!” Minho shouted, pounding on the door. “I hope whatever they’re giving you is worth it!”

Jaemin smirked, pulling up his pant leg to reveal the tracking anklet fastened around his leg. It was flashing red, a clear indicator that he had violated his two mile radius. “It is.”

“You’re a _bastard,_ Jaemin Na!” Minho screamed.

Jaemin simply shrugged.

$$$

Mark stepped out of the car onto the docks, a grin on his face. As soon as Lucas had updated him on Jaemin’s location, he realized what Jaemin was trying to do. To get him inside that warehouse.

“Gentlemen, we have a fugitive hiding in this building. Knock down those doors!”

It only took two powerful kicks to break open the door to the old warehouse, and his agents swarmed inside. He strode in after them, laughing when he caught sight of Minho and his henchmen carrying the boxes of forged bonds. 

“This is what the law calls _exigent circumstance._ Do any of you Harvard graduates know what that is? No hands this time?” He spotted Jungwoo sidling up next to him. “Jungwoo?”

“Exigent circumstance allows us to pursue a suspect onto private property without obtaining a warrant,” Jungwoo said.

“And to seize any and all evidence that is discovered in plain view, regardless of the connection to the original crime,” Mark finished, picking up one of the bonds that had floated to the ground in the flurry of activity. He waved it at Minho, already cuffed. “Remember me, _friend?_ ”

He walked further into the warehouse and spotted Jaemin in the office, unlocking the door and pulling it open for him to enter.

“You know,” Mark began, “you’re really bad at this escape thing.”

Jaemin spread his hands out with a shrug. “What can I say?”

Mark tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “Hmm, you _are_ a fleeing suspect. What should I do with you?”

Jaemin laughed, climbing off the desk and pointing to an open safe behind him. Mark leaned over and spotted a familiar sheet of 1944 Spanish press.

“Is that the original Victory Bond?”

“Why yes,” Jaemin replied. “Yes it is.”

Mark laughed. “You know this makes me 2 and 0, right?”

Jaemin shrugged. “Maybe I’m not trying hard enough.”

$$$

Mark took Renjun’s hand, leading him carefully through Jaemin’s apartment and out to the balcony. He and Jaemin had spent hours preparing, and Jaemin had made himself scarce, staying downstairs with Jaehyun. Mark checked to make sure everything was still in place (electric candles, wine, and roses) before helping Renjun navigate to one of the lounge chairs, gently pushing him down.

“Can I take this off now?” Renjun asked, pouting as he tugged at the blindfold around his eyes.

“One second,” Mark said, reaching for a fleece blanket and wrapping it around Renjun’s shoulders. He was wearing a cashmere sweater, but it was still a little chilly out, and Renjun was sensitive to the cold. He grabbed a bigger blanket and pulled it around them both, sliding behind Renjun on the chair. “Okay, now you can take it off.”

Renjun immediately ripped the blindfold off, and gasped when he took in the view of Manhattan’s skyline at night, thousands of windows glittering against the dark sky. It was even more magical than the view in the daytime. He watched his husband turn around and take in the spread of food on the table, the bottles of wine that Jaemin had graciously gifted them, the rose petals scattered across the balcony floor with the candles and the bouquets in the vases. 

“Oh, Mark…” Renjun said softly. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“Happy anniversary, Injunnie,” Mark said, holding him tightly around the waist. “I know it’s not much but--”

“It’s perfect,” Renjun said, cutting him off. He leaned back in Mark’s embrace, resting his head against Mark’s shoulder. It was a familiar position, and one that Mark had no trouble adjusting to. “Did you plan this all by yourself?”

“I had a little bit of help,” Mark admitted. “You know I’m not really the greatest with romantic stuff.”

“I know,” Renjun replied. “And I don’t expect you to be, Markie. Not that I’m not grateful for this. I just don’t need it to be happy, okay? I just need you.”

“I need you too,” Mark said honestly. “Forever. Always.”

“And you’ll always have me,” Renjun said with a sweet smile. Mark grabbed a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. He usually preferred beer if he drank at all, but Renjun was used to drinking wine and champagne at events, and rarely drank anything else, so Mark had gotten acquainted with the taste of wine. Jaemin was an expert, and knew more things about wine than Mark would ever in his lifetime. The wine was unexpectedly good, and paired well with the food. 

Mark really owed Jaemin for this.

“So,” Mark said, clearing his throat. “I hope you know this isn’t all there is to your gift.”

“There’s more?!” Renjun’s eyes went wide, and he placed his wine glass down to twist around in the chair, throwing his legs over Mark’s lap. “Baby, you know you don’t have to, right? This is perfect for me.”

“I know.” Renjun was so simple -- so easy to love. They rarely argued, and usually resolved their issues quickly. He never felt pressured or trapped or anything like that. He just fell more in love with Renjun every single day, and he didn’t think that was possible. “I wanted to.”

He presented Renjun with an envelope, and watched as Renjun’s graceful fingers pried open the seal and pulled out two boarding passes to Belize.

"Mark?” Renjun whispered, not looking up.

“Five days,” Mark said. “The week after next. I managed to get the time off. I already called your secretary, and she’s rearranged all your meetings and appointments. And we’ve got a suite at a beachfront resort.”

“Mark…”

“I want to spend time with you. And let’s be honest, we both could use a vacation. Jaemin said he didn’t mind looking after Teddy and Kwazzi for us.” He chuckled, imagining the ever-sophisticated Jaemin in his Italian suits and fancy watches walking the dog and grooming the cat. “So there’s absolutely nothing we need to worry about.”

Renjun shoved the tickets back into the envelope and threw them on the table, then buried his face into Mark’s chest. Surprised, Mark wrapped his arms around Renjun and held him tightly.

“Thank you,” Renjun said into the fabric of his shirt. “This is the best anniversary gift ever.”

“What, a vacation?” Mark teased, tilting Renjun’s chin up for a kiss.

“No,” Renjun said, shaking his head. “Quality time with my beautiful, perfect husband.”

$$$

Jaemin leaned on the balcony railing, the wind tousling his hair and the morning sun gently kissing his skin. He had already cleaned up everything from last night, the roses and wine bottles disposed of and the electric candles put away. 

He heard Mark walk out onto the balcony, but he didn’t bother to turn around, instead taking in the sight of Manhattan. On the ground, it wasn’t as pretty, but up here, it felt like he was in the clouds. 

“Can’t beat that view, huh?”

Jaemin smiled to himself. “Did Renjun like it?”

“He loved it.”

“Coffee?” Jaemin offered, already gesturing to the tray on the table. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mark said, reaching for a cup. He had circles under his eyes, the long hours of work chasing after the Dutchman finally catching up to him, though it didn’t detract from his good looks. Still, he definitely needed a break. Speaking of which…

“So, vacation, huh?”

Mark startled, giving Jaemin an adorable wide-eyed look. “Yeah! Yeah, but we’ll be back in less than a week.”

“Have a good time,” Jaemin said cordially. Then, he turned serious, chewing a little on his lower lip before he could stop himself. “Did they make a decision?”

Mark smiled and pulled out an FBI badge from his pocket, handing it to Jaemin. He flipped open the leather to see the badge, his name, and _consultant_ printed next to his photo. “Figured if we didn’t give you one of these, you’d end up making your own.”

“I’m official,” Jaemin said with a pleased grin.

“You’re a consultant, and I own you for the next three years. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah.”

Mark gave him a skeptical look. “You’ll be here when I get back?”

Jaemin gave him an innocent smile. “Where else would I go?”

Mark sighed, said his goodbyes, and left. Jaemin waited until he was gone before he picked up his magazine. Inside featured an article and photos of a painting. But not just any painting. _The_ painting. 

His one final score before he would disappear for good.


	2. Chapter 2

A knock on the door made Jaemin pause in getting dressed. It was still rather early, but it couldn’t be anyone but Mark, so he didn’t bother waiting until he was fully clothed before calling for Mark to come in.

“Hey,” he said, starting to button up his shirt as Mark walked in.

“Hey.” Mark paused when he caught sight of Jaemin half-naked. His expression didn’t change, but his ears turned bright red. Jaemin smirked, finishing with his shirt and reaching for a tie.

“Coffee?” Jaemin offered, but Mark shook his head.

“No time. We’ve got a stolen painting.”

Jaemin pouted. “No time for coffee?”

“It’s…it’s a Haustenberg.” Jaemin didn’t miss the hesitation, but he chose to ignore it.

“A museum heist?”

“No, residential robbery.”

Jaemin smiled, pulling on a blazer. “I’d like to meet the person who keeps a Haustenberg over the fireplace.”

He followed Mark downstairs, said goodbye to Jaehyun, and hurried to Mark’s car, buckling in as quickly as possible. Mark didn’t seem to be in the mood for his usual relaxed pace.

“I love Haustenberg,” Jaemin said when Mark began driving. “Which one of his paintings was stolen?”

“Young Girl With a Locket,” Mark answered, keeping his gaze forward.

“No photograph?”

“No, but I’m guessing it’s a painting of a girl wearing a locket.”

Jaemin scowled. “You don’t get enough credit for your deductive reasoning skills.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but Mark didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, then he just didn’t care.

“It’s worth $2 million and change.”

“That’s nice,” Jaemin responded, turning to look out the window. It was hardly the most exorbitant price for a painting, especially not a Haustenberg.

“Haustenbergs are rare,” Mark continued. Jaemin rolled his eyes, wishing Mark would just come out and say what he wanted to say.

“Well, not many of his works made it out of Hungary after the war,” Jaemin said irritably.

“Yeah. Rare can make it valuable. _Very_ valuable.” And when Jaemin turned around, he caught Mark giving him a _look._ A look full of suspicion. An ” _I don’t trust you”_ look. Which, whatever, Jaemin wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy person, but he bristled. He hadn’t even _done_ anything recently.

“What are you looking at me for?” Jaemin said defensively.

“Why do you think?” Mark deadpanned.

“I didn’t steal it!”

“I know you didn’t steal it, but you like paintings. If we find it, it might be too much temptation for you.”

Jaemin leaned towards Mark and ran a hand down his arm, making sure his gaze flickered obviously to Mark’s lips. “Oh, trust me, I can handle temptation.”

“Fuck off, Jaemin,” Mark said goodnaturedly, his voice light. It caught Jaemin off guard. He expected Mark to be angrier about it. He settled back in his seat, feeling like something had shifted between them.

“Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. I’m a reformed man, remember?” Jaemin reminded him.

Mark scoffed. “Like I’d believe that.”

“You don’t trust me,” Jaemin said, and though he never gave Mark reason to, it still stung a little bit. That Mark thought he would revert to old habits so easily.

Mark was quiet for a moment. “Let’s just recover the painting.”

It hurt more than Jaemin was willing to admit. He turned to look out the window, and kept quiet for the rest of the ride.

$$$

“Wow, the FBI. You guys are really taking this seriously, huh?” A young, blonde woman -- the victim, Julianna -- said when she pulled open the door.

“We are,” Mark said with a nod, putting his badge back in his pocket. “Are you the homeowner?

“Yes.” At his skeptical look, she rolled her eyes. “My parents are dead, I’m over twenty one, and I was robbed. Any other questions?”

God save Mark from youthful sass. He was getting way too old for this, and he hadn’t even reached his thirties yet.

“Was the painting insured?” Jaemin asked from behind him.

“No,” Julianna said, leading them into the house. It was huge and ornately decorated, bigger than even Jaehyun’s home. There was a grand staircase in the main foyer, and she took them up the stairs.

“It’s worth $2.6 million,” Mark deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s where it was,” Julianna said over him, pointing to an empty space on the wall above the fireplace in the upstairs living room. There was discoloration to the wallpaper, in the shape of a rectangle, a clear indicator that something was missing. “Uh, Tuesdays I have classes, and the instructor let us out early. I came in here and there was this… this monster, and he shoved me up against the wall.”

“He hurt you?” Mark asked.

“Yeah,” Julianna said, loosening her scarf to show the bruising on her throat. “I hit him in the face, and he said if I did it again, he would kill me.”

“What did you do?”

“I hit him again.”

Mark chuckled a little. Maybe she wasn’t too bad. “Do you have a photo of the painting? Your report only had a brief description.”

“Um…” She pondered for a moment, then brightened in realization. “Yeah, yeah, let me go get it.”

She made to leave the room, and nearly bumped into a burly older man that scowled when he caught sight of Mark and Jaemin in the room.

“Can I help you?” The man said in a gruff voice, puffing up in an attempt to look intimidating. Mark had a 9mm Glock pistol in a holster under his suit jacket -- he wasn’t worried.

“Oh, it’s okay, Gary, they’re the FBI. They’re here about the painting,” Julianna assured him before exiting the room, presumably to look for the photo.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Gary said, sounding much nicer now that he knew Mark was a federal agent.

“Of course. Were you there when it happened?” Mark asked.

“Nah, nah, I was at work at the time,” Gary answered, shaking his head. “Wish I could be more helpful.” He chuckled as if he made a clever joke before walking away. Jaemin stepped up right behind Mark, leaning in close.

“We looking at an inside job?” Jaemin murmured in his ear.

Mark nodded. “The thief knew her schedule, nothing else was taken.”

Gary was looking more and more suspicious by the second.

“Help Julianna with that photo,” Mark called over his shoulder, striding out of the room to catch Gary in the hall. “Gary! I have a few questions for you.”

$$$

Jaemin sighed impatiently, but straightened up when Julianna entered with a smaller picture frame in her hand.

“So Gary’s your…?”

“Uncle,” Julianna said. “He’s my uncle. Will this do?” She passed the frame to him. It was a sepia toned photo of a young woman who was the spitting image of Julianna. Everything was the same, including the wallpaper and the fireplace. “That’s my grandmother, and that’s the painting behind her.”

The painting looked just as Jaemin expected, a fair-skinned, light-haired girl with a locket painted around her throat. He looked back at Julianna’s grandmother.

“She could be your twin.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a small smile. “I was named after her. She raised me. When she died, she left me the house… and the painting.”

“What did Uncle Gary think of that?” Jaemin asked before he could stop himself.

She gave him a wary look. “You don’t look like an FBI agent.”

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. What’s an FBI agent look like?

“Um…” She pointed at the door. “Him.”

Jaemin turned to see Mark entering the room, a grim look on his face. “You got the photo?”

He nodded.

“Let’s go,” Mark said, jerking his head towards the door with an expression that left no room for argument. Jaemin gave Julianna an apologetic smile before following Mark out of the house. “I’ve never seen a guy lawyer up that fast. All I got was that he’s a stock trader on Wall Street and that his attorney will answer any further questions I might have.”

“So, Uncle Gary tips off the thief, splits the take…” Jaemin hypothesized.

“More likely Uncle Gary owes money to somebody, and he was tired of staring at two million just hanging on the wall,” Mark said, rolling his eyes.

“Now he shuts up, and we do this the hard way?”

“The hard way,” Mark repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Jaemin smiled. “All we need from Gary is the name of the guy he’s working with, right?”

“Right,” Mark said slowly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“So why don’t I talk to him?”

“ _You?_ ”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. As a consultant and not technically an employee of the FBI--”

“--a consultant on a tenuous probation.”

“As I am constantly reminded,” Jaemin said exasperatedly before continuing. “Is there anything illegal about me talking to him?”

Mark bit his lip, but Jaemin could see he was considering it. “You can’t threaten him.”

Jaemin smiled. “Don’t plan to.”

“Or lie to him.”

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “No lying. I’m just gonna ask for the name.”

Mark sighed, but eventually he waved Jaemin off. He grinned, slapping Mark on the back before approaching Gary who was getting in his car.

“Tell me, Gary,” Jaemin began, leaning against the car with a forced air of casualty. He let a cocky grin slip on his face. “Does Julianna know you helped steal the painting?”

Gary startled, pulling his head out of the car. His face was very red, sweat beading at his temples and dripping down his face. This was going to be almost too easy.

“You can’t be here,” Gary said defensively. “My lawyer was very clear.”

“First of all, hiring a lawyer makes you look guilty,” Jaemin informed him.

Gary shook his head. “He told me specifically not to talk to the FBI.”

Jaemin spread his hands out in front of him. “Do I look like an FBI agent?”

“Who are you?” Gary asked, scanning him up and down.

“Think hard, Gary,” Jaemin coerced. Gary looked around before leaning in close enough that Jaemin could smell his foul breath.

“Did _he_ send you?”

Jaemin scoffed, crossing his arms. “What do _you_ think?”

“God, I knew this would happen,” Gary groaned. “What, that whole thing at the house was a set up?”

“How’d it go wrong?” Jaemin demanded coldly.

“Julianna wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Jaemin gave him a pitying smile. “Now she’s a witness.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Gary said insistently. “Her class got out early. Please don’t hurt her.”

“It’s not me you need to convince,” Jaemin lied, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Tell him…” Gary was getting visibly desperate. “Tell him I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “She’s ready to sit with a sketch artist. This is the kind of thing that makes it much harder for him to sell the painting.”

“How about…” Gary fumbled his wallet out of his pocket and fished out a small wad of bills. “How about a good faith payment? Here, here. Three hundred. That’s all I have on me.”

Jaemin clucked his tongue. “Three hundred, Gary?”

Gary sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before relenting. “Alright, you’re right. You’re right. Um… I could write him a check?”

Jaemin grinned. _Bingo._ “That could work.”

$$$

Mark couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “He wrote you a personal check to the guy he helped steal his mother’s painting.”

“He was very insistent,” Jaemin said innocently.

“No threats, no lies?”

“None. I let him do all the talking. Not my fault he drew the wrong conclusions.”

Mark laughed a little. “I’m calling this one a gray area. So… Gerard Dorsett. You know him?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin said with a grimace. “Yeah he’s a… bad guy.”

“So I figured,” Mark sighed.

“Hey, what about Julianna?” Jaemin asked suddenly, and he sounded… _concerned._ Sure enough, when Mark looked over, Jaemin was worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “He figures out she’s talking to us…”

“Let’s catch the bastard before that happens.”

$$$

“We got him. We’ve been sitting on him for two days. They’ve gone to every high-end gallery in Manhattan offering the Haustenberg.” Lucas flipped through the slide of photos an agent had taken of Dorsett. Mark stopped him when another man popped up on the screen.

“Who’s that?” He asked.

“The big guy? Joshua. Ex-military.”

“The muscle who stole the painting,” Jaemin concluded, spinning around in his chair. Mark made a mental note to get the chairs in the conference room swapped for ones that didn’t have wheels. He whistled when Lucas flipped to another photo, catching the bruise on Joshua’s cheekbone.

“Julianna wasn’t kidding about that punch,” he mused.

“Girl has an arm,” Jaemin chuckled.

“The other guy is Dorsett,” Lucas continued, changing the slide to the next photo. “French expat.”

“What’s he into besides shaking down stockbrokers?” Jaemin asked, spinning around again until Jungwoo forcibly grabbed his chair, holding him in place.

“High-end loan-sharking, although calling him a loan shark is like calling Oedipus a mama’s boy. He makes questionable loans with big corporate money. Get behind on your payment, he’ll firebomb your office.”

“Ouch.”

“But the good news is, you get to meet him tomorrow!” Mark said cheerfully.

Jaemin gaped at him. “How’d you arrange that?”

Mark tapped his lips with his index finger. “I have connections, too.”

$$$

“Jaemin, this is Ryujin. She’s a buyer at the Lambert gallery and is nice enough to help us out on this one.”

Jaemin reached out to shake her hand, offering her a smile that was just slightly on the greasy side. She was gorgeous, but he more so did it to piss Mark off. Sure enough, he could see the FBI agent bristling out of the corner of his eye.

“I convinced Dorsett I have a wealthy client who’s _very_ interested in the painting,” Ryujin said with a triumphant grin.

“How much is he asking?” Jaemin asked.

“A hundred grand,” Mark answered, beating Ryujin to the chase. Jaemin almost laughed -- a hundred grand for a Haustenberg was like selling a ferrari for ten bucks and a Pokemon sticker. “We’ve arranged to have the exchange happen at the gallery. Lucas, let’s get a prep.”

“This should be fun,” Ryujin said flirtatiously, giving Jaemin one more smile before entering the gallery.

“What?” Jaemin asked when he caught Mark staring, looking visibly annoyed.

“Have you ever met a woman who didn’t…”

“Yerim. Yerim Kim,” Jaemin said. “It was second grade. I had a gap in my teeth.”

Mark gave him a disbelieving look before gesturing for him to follow Ryujin inside. Jaemin grinned to himself, heading into the gallery and finding Ryujin waiting for him. She led him past one room filled with a pile of clothes and Jaemin stopped in his tracks, whistling lowly.

“That’s a big load of laundry.”

“Yeah, it just sold for $120, 000.

“What?! Jaemin scoffed.

Ryujin smirked. “Can’t put a price on art.”

“Right,” Jaemin said slowly. Well, let’s get wired.”

It was quick work for the agents to tape a mic inside his collar, fastening the pack around his waist below his shirt. His suit jacket covered the small bulge in the clothing, and he quickly adjusted his clothing to make sure everything looked normal.

“Hundred grand in cash. That’s a lot of money,” Jaemin said, picking up the metal briefcase.

“Tempted?” Ryujin asked with a grin.

“Why would you think that?”

“Mark warned me about you,” Ryujin informed.

“Warned you?” Jaemin chuckled. “Sounds ominous.”

Ryujin raised an eyebrow, her lips quirked up. “Does it?” She leaned against the table, brushing her hair out of her face with one hand. “Is it true that you just got out of prison?”

Jaemin gestured to himself. “Does it look like I just got out of prison?”

She laughed. “He said you’d do that.”

“What?”

“Redirect.”

Jaemin sighed. Did Mark tell her his whole life story too while he was at it? “Yes, I just got out of prison. Yes, Mark was the one who put me there in the first place. And yes…” he leaned closer, smiling flirtatiously. “I’m tempted.”

An agent interrupted them, speaking into the earpiece disguised as an earring looped through Jaemin’s ear. “We’ve got Dorsett crossing 20th.”

“Let’s get a camera on that,” he heard Jungwoo say.

“They’re approaching the gallery,” the agent informed them.

“Team one has the eye.”

Sure enough, Dorsett and two men entered the gallery, not bothering to hide the fact that they were carrying. Dorsett looked like your typical movie villain. Shaved head, tattoos on the neck, gold earrings, dark gray suit.

“Good to see you again,” Ryujin greeted, her voice completely changing to a lighter, cheerful tone.

“Good to see you,” Dorsett said gruffly.

“As I said on the phone--” Ryujin gestured to Jaemin, “--this is Mr. Levante.”

“Call me Nathan,” Jaemin said confidently, reaching out to shake Dorsett’s hand. Ryujin quickly led them over to where the painting was laid on a table, still in its frame.

“It’s… smaller than I expected,” Dorsett said with a frown.

“Have you seen the Mona Lisa?” Ryujin said with a fake smile. “It’s tiny.”

Seemingly satisfied with that explanation, Dorsett held his hand out for the briefcase. “Could I see the money, please? I’d like to authenticate it.”

Well. They had no other choice but to hand it over. One of Dorsett’s men immediately opened the briefcase, rifling through the stacks of bills.

“So, you two have known each other for a long time?” Dorsett asked, gesturing between the two of them.

“We’ve been friends for, god I don’t know, how long has it been?” Ryujin looked to Jaemin, eyes slightly wide with panic.

“Years,” Jaemin said tightly.

Dorsett scoffed. “Beautiful people are never just friends.”

“Nathan has a girlfriend,” Ryujin blurted. Jaemin felt his smile slip. God damn it, she was going to blow their cover.

“Again, monogamy is the great casualty of beauty.”

“Not always,” Jaemin said.

“Please. We use the expression “butterfly” for a man that flits from flower to flower. A man such as yourself could be _quite_ a successful butterfly,” Dorsett commented, eyeing Jaemin.

Jaemin felt his eye twitch.”We consider butterflies weak, delicate creatures.”

“Yes, but flap their wings, and they can set off hurricanes,” Dorsett enthused.

“That’s beautiful,” Jaemin said dryly. “You should write a book.”

“Close the doors, please,” Dorsett said to his men. “I have a girlfriend myself.”

“Is she faithful?” Jaemin asked.

“I try not to think about it,” Dorsett replied. “Brigitte arrived last night, and I shouldn’t keep her waiting for too long. Can we hurry this up?”

_Brigitte._ Jaemin filed away that information for later. Never know if you need the name of a loan shark’s girlfriend or not.

“Of course,” Ryujin said through gritted teeth. “Lights, please.”

“I’ve got fluorescing cadmium green and azurite blue,” one of Dorsett’s men said, examining the Haustenberg painting under a magnifying glass. “That puts the paint composition pre-1960.”

“Perhaps you can explain to us why there are people signaling each other outside,” another of Dorsett’s men snapped, stepping away from the window.

“Should we go?” Lucas’s voice filtered in through the earpiece.

“Not yet, we can’t risk it,” came Mark’s reply.

Jaemin made up his mind. “Who are they?” He demanded. “If you brought the FBI into this…”

Dorsett looked affronted. “It was not me!”

“I told you to keep a low profile,” Ryujin hissed, catching onto Jaemin’s plan.

“You were careless,” Jaemin accused. “You’ve been flashing this painting all over town, they must have followed you here.”

“Something’s not right here,” Dorsett said, eyes narrowed. _Damn it._

“Damn right it’s not!” Jaemin exclaimed, but Dorsett just pulled a gun from his holster, aiming it at Ryujin’s face. They backed off, and he quickly snatched the briefcase from the table. His henchman grabbed the painting before Jaemin could even think of moving. “For my time and inconvenience.”

“That’s it, move move move!” Mark yelled. “Team one, team two, alpha bravo is exiting the rear of the building. Move in.”

Jaemin and Ryujin stood there as agents swarmed the place, unsure of what to do. Mark ran into the room, his gun pulled, but he stopped when he caught sight of them.

“You okay?” Mark called.

“We’re fine,” Jaemin answered, and Mark nodded, turning to Lucas.

“Arrest them.” When Lucas didn’t move, he repeated himself. “Arrest them, we have to keep their cover. Handcuff them, read them their rights, everything.”

That was all he said before he disappeared. Lucas and another agent came over to put Jaemin and Ryujin in cuffs, apologizing quietly. Jaemin wasn’t happy at the familiar feeling of metal around his wrist, but he went willingly, allowing Lucas to lead him out of the building with a soft “sorry about this.”

“Where are they?” Jaemin heard through his earpiece.

“They disappeared between the buildings.” Jungwoo’s voice.

“Anyone have eyes?” Mark again.

“Negative. They switched clothing.”

“Damn it!”

Ryujin sidled up to Jaemin, and though she was still cuffed, she had a smile playing on her lips. “Are things always this interesting when you’re around?”

$$$

Mark plopped his head down in Renjun’s lap, groaning when his back popped. He hadn’t been horizontal in what seemed like ages. He sank into the comfort of their couch, and Kwazzi leapt up onto his legs. Teddy was laying next to the couch, his tail thumping rhythmically on the floor. Renjun had lasagna baking in the oven. Just what he needed after a long day.

“So how upset were the higher ups that you lost a hundred grand?” Renjun asked, carding his hand through Mark’s hair.

Mark sighed. “Upset is a bit of an understatement. It started an administrative inquiry.”

“Everything will be fine when you recover it,” Renjun said, tapping his cheek lightly. “The good news is that Jaemin didn’t take it.”

“Yeah. This is progress,” Mark joked.

“Do you think he actually had anything to do with it?” Renjun asked.

“No,” Mark said with another sigh. “But the thing about Jaemin is that nothing is ever what it seems. The guy’s a total contradiction. He flirts with everything that moves, but acts so disinterested all the time.”

“Well honey, that’s who Jaemin is.”

“That’s never gonna change,” Mark said, smiling up at Renjun and scrunching his nose when he pinched his cheek.

“That’s why I love you so much,” Renjun teased.

“Why, because I lost all ability to flirt when we got married?”

“You couldn’t even flirt back then,” Renjun said with an eyeroll. “I was the one who did all the work. So, who’s the new girl?”

“Ryujin Shin.”

Renjun hummed. “Don’t know her.”

“She’s a buyer at the Lambert gallery. She seems nice.”

“Well, if Jaemin’s interested, you should encourage it. If he fell for someone, maybe he’d finally settle for a normal life.” Mark doubted it, but he didn’t say. Renjun seemed to have faith that Jaemin would change -- that he would turn away from a life of crime and walk the straight and narrow. He had no idea where that came from; they’d only met once. Before that, Renjun only knew of Jaemin through stories that Mark told him.

But Renjun always saw the good in people. He was always able to see past personas worn like masks. He saw the good in Mark, after all.

“I love you,” Mark said.

Renjun smiled fondly and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “I love you too.”

$$$

“So,” Mark began, and Jaemin raised an eyebrow at him. “You and Ryujin were getting along well yesterday.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. _This_ was where Mark was going? He had thought that Mark had called him into his office for something important. He never thought he’d say this, but he wanted to go back to his cubicle. “She’s not my type.”

“Not your… not your type? How is she not your type? She loves art, she’s gorgeous…”

“Does she bake cookies for orphans too?” Jaemin asked sarcastically.

“She does,” Mark said solemnly, and Jaemin had no idea if he was kidding or not.

“Oh I get it. Meet a nice girl, maybe settle down…”

“Simplify my life, probably save yours,” Mark said with a shrug. Jaemin stared at him.

“You’re lying about the cookies.”

“Prove it,” Mark challenged. Jaemin opened his mouth to argue, but he caught someone being led in through the doors at the front of the office floor. It was a harried looking man who was yelling at the poor agent who must have escorted him here.

“Who’s that?”

“Curator from the Channing Museum,” Mark explained. “He’s here because he says the Haustenberg was stolen.”

The curator was taken to a conference room, and Jaemin and Mark sat across from him. He was a thin, reedy man, with thick glasses and a stain on his white shirt. Jaemin tried not to wrinkle his nose.

“Why didn’t the Channing report it missing?” Mark asked, cutting straight to the point.

“We did, when it was stolen in 1967,” the curator replied.

“I have a question,” Jaemin said, leaning across the table to stare the man down. “If the painting was stolen in ‘67, why isn’t it listed on the art-loss registry?”

“The registry was established in 1990,” the curator said snobbishly.

“1991, actually,” Jaemin corrected. “You could have re-filed the claim.”

The curator stared at him. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

“He’s Jaemin Na, one of our art consultants,” Mark cut in smoothly.

The curator stroked his chin. “Na… I’m not familiar with that name.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Mark said with a wry smile. He was completely ignored by the curator, who was eyeing Jaemin up and down with a challenging glare. Jaemin had never lost in a conversation about art, and he never will.

“You’re an expert on Haustenberg?” The curator asked.

“All the late European post-impressionists,” Jaemin replied.

“Hmm. I authenticated ‘Young Girl With a Locket” myself when it first entered our collection,” the curator bragged. “You’ll agree it’s an excellent work. A bit sentimental for my taste, but the Matisse influence is apparent.”

“Oh well, considering Matisse was a Fauvis, I wouldn’t agree with that at all. Unless you’re talking about his early work, which I don’t think you are. And if you are, well, you’re just wrong,” Jaemin replied, leaning back in his chair and smirking as the curator’s eyes widened.

Mark tapped on the picture of the painting impatiently, clearly done with their posturing. “We have reason to believe this was stolen in a residential robbery.”

“What happened to the painting when it was taken from my museum is not my concern. Now, someone elected to buy stolen property,” the curator said, a smarmy grin on his face. “I believe that is a crime.”

$$$

“Do you know how the Haustenberg came into your grandmother’s possession?”

They were back in Julianna’s home, hoping to pry more details about how the painting ended up hung on her wall when it was allegedly supposed to be in the Channing Museum.

“She brought it with her from Hungary. When she came to this country after the war. Why?”

“Agent Lee, I’ve got a question for you,” Gary said, poking his head into the sitting room. Mark gave Jaemin a look that read _behave_ before getting up from the couch and exiting the room with a short, “excuse me”.

“What’s going on?” Julianna asked.

“You’re not a very good liar,” Jaemin murmured. “Your grandmother stole that painting.”

“Why would you say that?” Julianna demanded.

“She never had it insured. That was my first clue.”

“Is this like a good cop, bad cop thing? He takes a call, you wink at me…”

“Julianna, if we get the painting, it’ll go back to the Channing. Unless you give us a good reason to keep it away from them,” Jaemin said, letting the subtle threat linger in the air. He watched Julianna’s expression shift, and knew that he had her. “Alright, tell me a story. How did she take it? Just… hypothetically.”

Julianna snorted. “Hypothetically? A little black dress, a laced bottle of whiskey, and a horny Irish security guard.”

Jaemin stared. “Okay, so, why did she do it?”

Julianna glanced at the door before she unzipped her sweater, pulling out a locket that was all too familiar. It dawned on him.

“Your grandmother’s the little girl in the painting.”

$$$

Jaemin walked out of the sitting room to find Mark outside in the hall, tapping on his phone. He had probably gotten a call that prevented him from coming back, which Jaemin was grateful for.

“How’s it going in there?” Mark asked, running a hand through his hair. Jaemin winced sympathetically -- Mark looked exhausted. He imagined the higher ups were hounding him to get the painting and money back, but they had almost no leads.

“Oh it’s… fine. Any luck on Dorsett?”

“No,” Mark said with a sigh, tugging on the knot of his tie. “Assuming you just walked with a hundred grand in cash and the painting, what would you do?”

“Go underground ‘til things cool off,” Jaemin answered.

“Where would you go?”

“Dorsett said something about having a girlfriend,” Jaemin said. “Brigitte. How many Brigittes came in from France in the last two days?”

“Accounting for middle names and spelling variations, a lot more than I thought. But taking away connecting flights and women over fifty, that leaves… seven. Okay, so we’ll pull in some teams and everybody can take a Brigitte.”

Jaemin looked at the list of Brigittes on Mark’s phone. “We should take the one staying at the Gansevoort.”

Mark just stared at him.

Jaemin shrugged. “It’s where I’d stay.”

$$$

They were in Mark’s car again, parked just outside the Gansevoort hotel. It was getting late, and Mark was listening to a radio broadcast of a basketball game that Jaemin really didn’t care for. He wasn’t new to stakeouts, but he thought the FBI would have a way to speed things up.

“You’d think they’d have a satellite for things like this.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “The only thing a satellite would tell us is that he’s not on the roof.”

“This is so old school,” Jaemin complained.

“Will you _relax_?” Mark snapped. “It’s only for a few hours. Suck it up.”

“Fine,” Jaemin sulked, throwing himself back against the seat. He pushed his face closer to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of _something_. “Can I just go inside?”

Mark sighed. “Fine.”

“Spot me a twenty?” Jaemin asked, half-joking.

“Why don’t you use your new gold card?” Mark said. Jaemin winced.

“Oh, you know about that?”

Mark laughed. “Of course I do. Keep it, it makes it easier for me to know what you’re buying. Hurry up and go before I change my mind. You’ve got ten minutes. And keep your phone on you.”

“Okay, okay,” Jaemin said, hopping out of the car and closing the door behind him. He spent a moment fixing his hair, and when he looked back through the window Mark was smirking at him. Mark had no idea how to use attractiveness to his advantage, clearly. But, Jaemin mused as he walked towards the front entrance of the hotel, he supposed Mark didn’t really need any help in that department. He looked pretty decent when he wasn’t scowling all the time.

It was easy to slip past security and navigate through the lobby to the bar. He sat at the counter, ordering a drink that he wasn’t actually planning on drinking, taking advantage of his position to scope out his surroundings. His eyes briefly touched on a pair of giggling women at the end of the bar, and he almost looked away when he heard one of them call the other _Brigitte._

He slid off the stool and walked towards them. He didn’t expect it to be easy, but the blonde, Brigitte, immediately caught sight of him and began whispering to her friend.

“ _Excusez-moi_ ,” Jaemin said, sidling up to them. _“Parlez-vous francais_?”

$$$

“Hey.”

Mark looked up when Jaemin tapped on the window and rolled it down. Behind him were two

aesthetically nice-looking women dressed in glittery dresses. They were both giggling madly, and Mark thought they were probably intoxicated.

“You brought back… company?” Mark asked, unsure how to put it delicately.

Jaemin stared at him for a moment in confusion before his face twisted in disgust. “What the fuck? No! That’s _Brigitte._ And company. I convinced them to invite us up to their suite.”

“Are you out of your _mind?!_ ”

“The room is rented in her name! We’re not breaking any laws if she invites us in. The hundred grand and painting could be inside. Wouldn’t you like to know if our stakeout was worth it? Brigitte likes me. You can have Claire.”

Mark sighed. He felt a headache coming on. Still, he needed to get that money back (and the painting). It was possible that they were right there, and Mark wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just missed it.

“Alright. Fine, fine, let’s go.” He got out of the car with another sigh, but plastered a smile on his face when the two women looked at him. “Ah, hello.”

“Oh by the way,” Jaemin said, leaning forward with a grin, “they only speak French.”

$$$

Mark watched as Brigette emerged from the master bedroom of the hotel suite with a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hand. She placed them on the table with a giggle before going back and locking the door with a tiny silver key.

“You see that?” Jaemin whispered.

“Yup. She does _not_ want us in there.”

“I bet there’s a door in the bathroom that connects to the master bedroom. I can totally get in there,” Jaemin said eagerly.

Mark shook his head vehemently. “No, you can’t.”

Jaemin shrugged. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“No, I can’t condone this,” Mark said, “You know the rules.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that speech once or twice.”

One of the girls, Claire, walked over to them and said something in French, giggling the whole time. Mark felt bad that they were using her and Brigitte, but he also thought he might tear his skin off. He fidgeted uncomfortably, sweat trickling down his back.

“What did she say?” Mark whispered.

“They want to play strip poker.”

Mark immediately went red. “Um…”

Jaemin laughed. “I’m kidding. But could you imagine?” Mark glared at him, and he held his hands up in defence. “They just want music, relax. It’s over there.”

He nodded at the stereo system on the other side of the room, and Mark gave him a blank look, but stood up from the couch, crossing the room to the stereo and fiddling with the buttons. He finally managed to turn on the radio to some pop station, and when he turned around, Jaemin was no longer on the couch.

Before he could say a word, maybe yell at Jaemin and smack him around, Claire and Brigitte tugged him down onto the couch. The tips of his ears burned, and he did his best to gently push their hands away, hunching over in a defensive position, praying they would leave him alone long enough for them to get out of here.

God, he was going to _kill_ Jaemin.

$$$

Jaemin quickly shut the bathroom door, the sound nothing more than a soft _snick._ He approached the door on the other side that presumably led to the master suite, taking out his lock-picking tools. It came naturally to him after so many years, and he was able to open the door in seconds.

Creeping into the room, he immediately scanned for places that might have the painting hidden inside. He carefully went through the drawers, flipping through the clothing, but found nothing. Running a hand through his hair, he searched under the mattress. Nothing again. The room didn’t have too many hiding places. Biting his lip, Jaemin looked around once more and his eyes caught on a gaudish but enormous painting. _Could it be…?_

He crossed the room, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the frame and carefully pulling it off of the hooks that attached it to the wall. He flipped it over, and sure enough, there was “Young Girl With a Locket”, nestled in the corner of the back of the frame. He took it out and examined it for damage, but it seemed to be fine despite having been taken out of its frame. Turning it over, his eyes widened when he saw the inscription.

_To my dearest Julianna, keep this forever._

$$$

Mark was going to _murder Jaemin in cold blood._ Sending him back behind bars wasn’t enough. The women were on either side of him on the couch, and they wouldn’t stop trying to _touch_ him. He shook them off for the fifth time, and when his phone rang he leapt to his feet, backing away quickly.

“Sorry, I-I have to take this,” he stammered, pointing to his phone. They giggled at him, and Mark could feel a migraine coming on. He was never going to forgive Jaemin for this. “Hello?”

“Oh, hi honey! I didn’t think I was gonna get you, I was planning to leave a message.” Fuck, it was Renjun.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, well, I saw it was you so I just. You know. Anyway, what’s up?” Mark winced when Brigitte and Claire went over to the stereo.

“Not much, I just got back from dinner with a client. I wanted to see how the stakeout was going! Sorry I couldn’t pack you anything to eat.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Mark said hurriedly. “Um--”

Loud music began blasting from the stereo, and Brigitte and Claire began screaming and jumping up and down. Evidently, it was a favorite song of theirs.

“Where are you?” Renjun asked.

Mark panicked. “I’m at a… I’m at a…”

“Are you at a nightclub?”

“Yes!” Mark blurted, slapping his hand against his forehead. “We, uh, we followed him into a nightclub.”

“At the Gansevoort? Wow, I’m impressed, baby, I can’t believe you got in there!”

Mark sighed. “It’s, uh, it’s a long story, Jun.” He paled when Brigitte and Claire came closer, just as Jaemin slipped out of the bathroom. “Uh, I gotta go, I’ve got a situation here.”

“Alright, honey. Love you!” Renjun sounded amused.

“Love you too,” Mark said, just as Claire squealed. He hung up frantically, pocketing his phone and turning to Jaemin, shrugging off Claire’s hands again. “Please,” he begged, “let’s get out of here.”

$$$

“Let me talk to Renjun.”

“You are not going to do _anything_ ,” Mark snarled, yanking open the door to his car and jumping in the seat. He had half a mind to start driving and just leave Jaemin there.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“No, I don’t need you to lie to my husband!” Mark snapped, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.

“You’re gonna do it yourself?” Jaemin asked, looking bewildered as he struggled to get his seatbelt on.

“No.”

Jaemin gave him a skeptical look. “You’re gonna tell him the _truth?_ Bold choice. See, I would tell him that I wouldn’t stop complaining about the car, so you let me go into the nightclub. Then you witnessed the suspect enter after me and had no choice but to follow.”

Mark opened his mouth to snap back, but his phone rang on its mount before he could say anything. Sighing, he pressed ‘Accept’ and immediately put it on speaker.

“Yeah?”

It was Lucas. “We lost Dorsett.”

“Damn it,” Mark cursed, slamming his fist against the side of the steering wheel. “What about the painting and cash?”

“All gone.”

“We’ve got an APB out on him, all airports and vehicle rental places have been notified. He’s not gonna leave the country.”

“He better not,” Mark replied before hanging up.

Jaemin was surprisingly quiet in the passenger seat. “This is bad, huh.”

“Yeah.” Mark said with a dry laugh. Understatement of the century. “Yeah, this is bad.”

$$$

Mark flopped back onto the pillows next to Renjun, reaching for the pills he kept in the nightstand and swallowing them dry. His headache had yet to go away. He imagined he’d have a permanent migraine until Jaemin was either back behind bars or fully served his sentence. But he imagined that if Jaemin was a free man, he would immediately go back to his old ways. His only choice was to get him to quit the life of crime and turn to honest work, but he had no idea how to make the mundane appeal to someone so… extraordinary.

“Dorsett escaped,” Mark mumbled as Renjun crawled into bed next to him. “This is going to be a huge problem.”

“If you don’t find him, what happens to Jaemin?” Renjun asked, sitting back against the headboard. Mark pushed up on his elbows, pressing a kiss to Renjun’s bare shoulder.

“He’s done,” Mark admitted. “He’s back inside.”

“Do you think he actually stole it?”

Mark sighed. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, but he knew that painting was in the master suite. He _knew_ Jaemin had found it, but he didn’t have any evidence. But he knew Jaemin better than anyone -- he didn’t need evidence. “Yeah. I do.”

“You gonna be okay?” Renjun sounded worried, his small hands tangling in Mark’s hair and combing out the tangles. Mark leaned into the touch, resting his forehead against Renjun’s collarbone.

“Yeah I’ll… I’ll be fine. Listen, Renjun, about the nightclub…” Mark paused, then changed his mind. “There was no nightclub.”

“I know,” Renjun said simply, and Mark could hear the smile in his voice. He pulled away with a stunned expression. “What, you think I don’t know when you’re lying?”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said, voice small.

Renjun rolled his eyes, pinching Mark’s ear before pulling him in for a kiss. “It’s fine. Just don’t do it again, okay? I know your job isn’t easy and sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to, but at least have the decency to tell me about it.”

“That’s what I told Jaemin,” Mark admitted.

Renjun smiled. “Next time, stick to it.”

“I will,” Mark promised.

“Was she cute?” Mark startled, his eyes going wide until he realized that Renjun was teasing. His cheeks burned, and he immediately buried his face in a pillow, yanking the blanket over his head.

“Leave me alone,” he whined, but he smiled when Renjun began giggling. “I’m pleading the fifth on this one.”

“Yeah, okay,” Renjun said, sounding delighted. “Now come back out here so I can kiss you.”

And, well, who was Mark to disobey?

$$$

Jaemin was interrupted from his work when his phone rang. He wiped his hands on a rag and glanced at the number, but there was no ID. Still, he had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be, so he picked his phone up and answered the call, bringing it to his ear.

“Who is this?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You seem to have many names, Nathan.” Dorsett.

“How did you get this number?” Jaemin demanded, taking a seat on the edge of the table.

Dorsett scoffed. “You bought my girlfriend a drink with your credit card. I’m impressed with your resourcefulness. Now you will witness mine. I want the painting. If it is not returned, my friends will pay a visit to your girl at the gallery.”

_Shit._ “Leave her out of this.”

“Brigitte was out of bounds, but you involved her. You set the rules, now you must play by them.” Dorsett laughed, a grating sound that made Jaemin wince.

“I need two days.”

“That’s all you have.”

_Click_.

“You _stole_ the painting?!” Donghyuck asked as soon as Jaemin discarded his phone. He was sitting on Jaemin’s couch, drinking his wine. Freeloading as always. He came over a lot these days, but mostly to hang out with Jaehyun.

“I was going to give it back to Julianna!” Jaemin said defensively.

“You’re like a child!” Donghyuck accused. “No sense of consequence.”

“Fuck off,” Jaemin replied, rolling his eyes. “Look at the inscription. The Channing curator said he authenticated the painting before it was stolen. He _saw_ that it belonged to Julianna and chose to ignore it.”

“And what, you’re Robin Hood?” Donghyuck snapped patronizingly. “Have you even considered what might happen now that you’ve done it? Dorsett is going to start targeting you!”

“He already has,” Jaemin said with a grimace. “He’s planning to go after Ryujin.”

Donghyuck threw his hands up, nearly spilling wine all over himself. “This is because you didn’t like that curator. You did this for spite.”

“I’ve done things for less,” Jaemin admitted. “But I can’t let him go after Ryujin.”

Donghyuck heaved a great sigh, draining the last of his wine and discarding the glass on the coffee table before standing up.

“Okay. This is what you’re gonna do.”

$$$

Mark glared sleepily at Jaemin, still dressed in his pajamas. It was too early in the morning, and the sound of the doorbell woke both him and Renjun up. It was too close to the time they usually woke up to risk going back to sleep, so Renjun had decided to get ready early while Mark went to go answer the door.

He wasn’t expecting Jaemin of all people.

“This better be good,” he snapped, moving aside to let Jaemin in.

“I took the painting,” Jaemin said immediately, sitting down on the couch.

Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was pissed, but a part of him was a little bit pleased that he was right -- that he hadn’t been doubting Jaemin for nothing. “Damn it, Jaemin.”

“I wasn’t gonna…” Jaemin trailed off, looking a little lost. For the first time since they took on this case, Mark actually felt a little bad. But Jaemin straightened up seconds later, his facial expression changing to something more determined. “I can use it to catch Dorsett.”

“We’ll set it up tomorrow,” Mark said, “now get the hell out of my house.”

Jaemin hesitated, but climbed to his feet, brushing past Mark. He nodded at Renjun, who was coming down the stairs, before opening the door and leaving. The door shut quietly behind him and Mark immediately sagged. The pounding at his temples was back.

“Well, he, uh… told you the truth about the painting.”

“Yeah, well.” What the hell was Mark going to do with him? There was no way he could get Jaemin on the straight and narrow when he couldn’t even get Jaemin to follow protocol. Mark collapsed on the couch, no longer having the energy to stand. He loved his job, but Jaemin was making it much, _much_ more difficult.

“It’s a start,” Renjun said soothingly, running a hand down Mark’s back. “He came to you, doesn’t that count for something?”

“I wish it did, Injunnie,” Mark said miserably, allowing Renjun to pull him in for a hug. “But honestly, I’m at a loss here. I don’t know what to do with him.”

“Well, don’t give up on him,” Renjun said. “He needs you, you know. He just hasn’t realized it. You’re the only one he’s got.”

“Yeah,” Mark replied, “but who knows if I’m enough?”

Renjun didn’t have an answer for that.

$$$

“You need to work on your impulse control.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. “Pass me the Naples yellow.”

“Haustenberg’s brushwork is much more fluid,” Donghyuck sang, sliding the tube of paint across the table. “Yours is too choppy.”

“My brushwork is fine,” Jaemin snapped. He loved Donghyuck, but god did he get on his nerves. Still, no matter how patronizing and sarcastic Donghyuck got, Jaemin wouldn’t trade him for the world. He would never find a better partner in crime.

“This could trick the occasional tourist, but this guy at the Channing won’t be fooled,” Donghyuck said, taking on a more serious tone.

“I’m sure he won’t,” Jaemin said, eyes scanning the forgery once more before adding a little more paint to the eyes.

“This pigment needs to be aged,” Donghyuck said, stating the obvious. Jaemin rolled his eyes once more. Any harder and they’d fall out of his head. “I'll preheat the oven.”

“It’s one twenty five,” Jaemin called, putting down his brush and wiping his hands off with a rag.

“Yeah, yeah, I know how to age a painting.”

Jaemin grinned. “So, did you find it?”

“Of course I found it,” Donghyuck said from the kitchen. “Who do you take me for?”

“Where is it?” Jaemin asked excitedly, and Donghyuck smiled, clearly pleased.

“It’s on a yacht,” Donghyuck declared triumphantly. Jaemin just stared. “What?”

“A yacht, Hyuck? Really?”

“Ugh, you’re no fun. Fine, fine. The prince who bought the painting is keeping it on his private yacht. At first it was just a rumour, but a friend of a friend was able to verify for me that it’s there.”

“And you trust this friend?” Jaemin asked.

Donghyuck snorted. “I don’t trust anyone. But this guy is reliable, especially when you have the funds to pay for the information you want.”

Jaemin paused. “Don’t tell me you used _my_ funds.”

“Who do you take me for?” Donghyuck asked with a laugh. “Of course I did.”

$$$

“How tenuous is my probation?” Mark looked over at Jaemin who had been mostly silent this whole time they had been in the surveillance van, already wearing their mics.

“It’s pretty thin,” Mark replied quietly. Jaemin looked crestfallen. “We need this one.”

“It’s simple, right?” Jaemin asked, flashing his signature grin. Only this time, it didn’t meet his eyes. Mark felt a small pang in his chest despite himself. He wasn’t used to seeing Jaemin look so… so _hollow._

“Yeah, so don’t make it complicated. Take Dorsett down quickly,” Mark said, trying to sound encouraging without actively using words of encouragement, knowing Jaemin wouldn’t take him seriously.

“If I get him, will you start trusting me more?” Jaemin’s lower lip was jutting out, but it didn’t seem like he was doing it on purpose. His eyes were wide and sad, and Mark felt like he had kicked a puppy.

“Yeah,” Mark said, though he wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. “Good luck, partner.”

He expected for Jaemin to laugh it off, or for him to make a quip about how Mark sounded like a dumb cowboy, but he wasn’t expecting for Jaemin’s face to transformed from surprised to pleased, like the cat that got the cream.

His earpiece crackled, and Jaemin paused, so he imagined his was doing the same. “We have eyes on Dorsett. ETA three minutes.”

“Move in,” Mark commanded. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Jaemin replied, getting ready to hop out of the van.

Mark stopped him. “Jaemin…”

“Yeah?” Jaemin raised an eyebrow, looking back over his shoulder.

“Be careful,” Mark blurted. He loathed to admit it, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if Jaemin died. He told himself that it was because Jaemin was _his_ consultant, but it was more than that. Somewhere along the way, he began caring about Jaemin’s well-being, and he hadn’t realized it until he was forced to send Jaemin into danger.

Jaemin gave him a salute and a tiny, genuine smile.

“I will.” His eyes searched Mark’s. “Partner.”

$$$

Jaemin adjusted his cufflinks nonchalantly when Dorsett walked up to him. Once again, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was carrying, but it didn’t matter to Jaemin, who trusted Mark to intervene before the situation escalated that far.

Despite his predicament, Jaemin stilled at the realization that he trusted Mark more than he cared to admit. Sure, he knew that Mark probably didn’t want him dead despite everything, more so because Mark was a good person rather than thinking he actually cared about Jaemin, but he had faith that Mark would watch his back, and do everything in his power to keep Jaemin from getting hurt.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

“I’m surprised you had the guts to come yourself,” Jaemin called out.

“It’s not bravery,” Dorsett said with a laugh. “I simply don’t trust my men with a multi-million dollar painting.”

“Is it hard to live like that?” Jaemin asked, mostly because he was stalling, but also because he genuinely wanted to know. “Not trusting the people closest to you?”

It was hard for him. It had been years of Jaemin watching his own back -- never trusting anyone with his life. Not even Donghyuck. But Mark was different. Maybe it was his hero complex, or maybe it was the way Mark had said “be careful” in such a tender way that it made Jaemin want to cry. Or maybe it was because Mark had said yes. Had gotten him out of that stupid prison and took a chance on him, even though Jaemin had never given him a reason to.

“I suppose so, but I’d rather the money.”

“You won,” Jaemin said.

“Yes, but it was a good game.”

Jaemin smirked just as the sirens began to wail. Dorsett panicked and started to back away, but it was useless. He was completely surrounded. Mark came running with his gun poised and ready to shoot.

“FBI! You’re under arrest! Hands where I can see him,” Mark shouted. Dorsett raised his hands, and Lucas immediately appeared behind him, cuffing his hands behind his back.

Across the square, Jaemin made eye contact and smiled. Mark eyed him for a moment, his eyes wide, but he smiled back. Mark looked… different when he smiled. His nose scrunched and the lines of his face softened, his eyes curved up into crescents.

Jaemin’s heart pounded in his chest -- but he didn’t want to think about what that meant.

$$$

“Haustenberg was her father, wasn’t he?”

Jaemin looked away politely when Julianna wiped her tears with a handkerchief. In her hand was the original painting of “Young Girl With a Locket”, or the painting of her grandmother. He had never stolen art for someone else before, but looking at the expression on her face, he felt like he had done something good.

He had never thought of himself as the selfless kind, but the smile on her face when she thanked him… he would never forget it.

“Yes,” Julianna sniffled. “She was his illegitimate daughter, but he had a family then, in Hungary.”

“How did the painting end up at the Channing?” Jaemin asked.

“He willed the painting to my grandmother, but when he died, the museum chose to ignore his will. Who cares about the illegitimate daughter of a famous artist?” Julianna let out a bitter laugh, running her hand along the edge of the frame. “It’s not theft when rich men do it. Anyway, how do you know that they won’t try to take it back?”

Jaemin smirked. “Because if they do, the curator will have to explain why the museum went against Haustenberg’s wishes. And I don’t think he wants that.”

$$$

Mark watched as the curator examined the painting, wary. He wasn’t the biggest fan of this guy, who had been so patronizing to him, Jaemin, and all of his agents, and he just wanted to go home. He studied his reactions, the miniscule tick in his jaw and the pursing of his lips.

_Oh, Jaemin. What have you done?_

But to his surprise, the curator’s eyes widened when he turned the painting over in his hand.

“Is there a problem?” Mark asked cautiously.

“No, no,” the curator said, adjusting his glasses. Sweat was visibly dripping down the side of his face. Mark chose not to comment on it. “I’m thrilled to have the _original_ Haustenberg back where it belongs.”

_It’s a forgery._ Mark was no art expert, and the painting looked identical to the one in the photograph, but the curator was clearly aware. And yet... he hadn’t said a word about it. In fact, he called it the original painting. Mark wondered what Jaemin had written on the back. The curator was still examining the back of the painting, not sparing a glance at Mark, so he took a chance and reached out with his phone, snapping a photo over the curator’s shoulder while still standing next to him.

When he made it home, his head on Renjun’s lap as they watched late night runs of cartoons, he finally remembered to check the photo. It was slightly blurry, but it was easy enough for him to make out the inscription that Jaemin had written.

_I know you saw what was written here._

“Oh,” Mark said aloud.

Renjun’s hands stilled in his hair. “What is it?”

“Jaemin didn’t take the painting for himself,” Mark said. “He took it for Julianna.”

“That’s… selfless of him,” Renjun commented, his fingers tugging on Mark’s ear. “I’m a little surprised, but it’s a start, right?”

“Yeah,” Mark said, smiling up at him. “It’s a start. Do you think he can really change, Renjun?”

“I think,” Renjun began, bending over to kiss the tip of Mark’s nose, “that if anyone can change him, it’s you.”

$$$

Jaemin spread out the articles and papers he had printed out on the table. Donghyuck was seated on the couch, studying a map with his lips pouted in concentration. He was halfway through a bottle of wine, but his brain worked faster when he was tipsy.

“Says here that it’s being kept in storage in Switzerland,” Jaemin said.

Donghyuck snorted. “Of course it does. A $450 million dollar painting is probably one of the biggest targets for people like us. They don’t want anyone knowing where it is. But it’s on the yacht, I’m sure of it.”

“Who is your contact, anyway?”

“An associate of Prince Badr Abdullah,” Donghyuck replied nonchalantly, tipping his glass to empty the last of the wine into his mouth. “He’s the one who bought the painting on behalf of the crown prince.”

“Yes I know,” Jaemin said patiently. “Just because I don’t have a photographic memory like you, doesn’t mean I don’t remember.”

“My perfect recall is just _one_ of my many positive attributes,” Donghyuck sniffed haughtily. “You should feel blessed that you have someone like me on your side.”

“I do, Donghyuck,” Jaemin said with a laugh, but he was being completely honest. Donghyuck looked happy to hear it as he uncrossed his legs. placing his wine glass on the table and the map beside it, smoothing out the folds. He pointed to a circle he made on the map with a red marker.

“This is the port where Prince bin Salman docks every year,” Donghyuck said. “Here, off Fort St Angelo in Malta. His yacht is named _Serene._ All the locals know about it, or so I’ve heard.”

“I can’t go anywhere if I’m still chained to the FBI,” Jaemin pointed out, gesturing to his ankle where the monitor was still strapped. He was really starting to get sick of it.

“All in due time, Jaem,” Donghyuck said with a grin. “All in due time.”

Jaemin laughed, hooking an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You know, I really am glad to have you on my team.”

“I know,” Donghyuck said, but he preened under Jaemin’s touch. “Speaking of teams, you’ll never guess who’s back in town.”

“Who?” Jaemin asked, raising a skeptical brow.

Donghyuck looked absolutely delighted. “Yangyang.”

Jaemin froze. “No. _No_. Absolutely not, Donghyuck.”

“Oh come on, Jaem, I know you guys have history, but you need to get on his good side again. He’s the best fence in the entire country. We need him,” Donghyuck replied. “Just man up and apologize to him.”

Jaemin glared. “I take offence to that.”

“I don’t care,” Donghyuck replied gleefully. “Now shut up and start reading. I expect you to know every little detail like the back of your hand.”

“Shouldn’t this be your job? You are the one who has perfect recall, after all,” Jaemin said, throwing Donghyuck’s words back at him. Of course, they had no effect, because Donghyuck just brushed them off with a chuckle and flopped back down on the couch, reaching for his wine glass again.

“Nah. My job is to sit here and look pretty.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond as he turned back to his papers, pulling out the photographs he needed. One was black and white, a photograph of the original painting, and another was the painting after the modern restoration. He skirted the tips of his fingers around the edge of the gilded frame in the picture.

The _Salvator Mundi_ was going to be his.


	3. Chapter 3

Renjun strode through the museum with his iPad in one hand and the client’s assistant walking behind him, eyes hard as steel. He loved his employees very much, but sometimes they slacked off a little. Normally, he wouldn’t care as long as everything was finished on time, but this client was _very_ particular. Renjun particularly wanted to shove a foot up this client’s ass, but the fat paycheck he was going to receive was going to make it all worth it. And that would only be the second half.

“So as we all know, Mr. Stanzler is very, very specific. The Bordeaux glasses are only to be served with Cabernet. And in burgundy glasses, for god’s sake, only put Pinot in these--”

“If it smells like paint the next time I walk in here, I will shoot someone.” Renjun stopped in his tracks, forcing a polite smile on his face when he caught sight of his client.

“Mr. Stanzler,” Brooke, the assistant, greeted quietly.

“Andrew, good morning,” Renjun said cordially.

“Skip the pleasantries,” Stanzler drawled. “You have six seconds.”

It took all of Renjun’s willpower to not sock him in the face. “Okay, well, everything’s set for Saturday.” He showed Andrew his iPad with the checklist and notes, but he barely looked at it before speaking.

“What about the ice sculpture?” He demanded.

“The four by three ice bear, yes, we can expect it to arrive early Saturday morning.”

“Four by three?” Andrew asked with a scowl. “No, I want it eight feet.”

Renjun startled, nearly dropping his iPad. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Eight feet?”

“Did I stutter?” Andrew said gruffly. “Eight feet. I want it _bold._ ”

“Got it,” was all Renjun said in reply. Andrew nodded grimly before stomping away. Renjun hoped his face would get stuck in that ugly frown. That image would be the only entertainment he would have for the rest of the day, because he now needed to find an ice sculptor willing to carve an eight foot bear before Saturday.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Brooke apologized. She reminded Renjun of a mouse -- quiet and meek. She was taller than Renjun without her heels, but she hunched over like she didn’t want to be seen. Renjun imagined it must be because of her asshole of a boss, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

“It’s alright,” Renjun said quickly, not wanting her to feel bad. “One thing I like about your boss is that he knows what he wants.” It was annoying, sure, but he had dealt with clients who had absolutely no idea of what they wanted from his company, and then it took them days to come up with proposals in order to make things work.

“Yeah,” Brooke replied, voice small. Renjun took one look at her eyes, red rimmed and stamped with dark eyebags, and immediately softened, his instincts taking over.

“Brooke? Are you alright?”

She took a deep breath. “Last week, you said your husband works for the FBI.”

“Yeah, he does,” Renjun replied softly. “Is, uh. Is everything okay?”

“No,” Brooke said, and she looked like she was about to cry. “It’s not.”

$$$

Mark dropped his screwdriver with a sigh, finally having replaced the vent on the window AC with a new one. Teddy whined, pawing at the ground. His tail wasn’t even wagging. Mark glanced over to make sure he had water to keep himself cool.

_“New Yorkers took to the streets as temperatures soared to triple digits, making today one of the city’s hottest days on record. With East Coast Hydroelectric reporting record usage, city authorities warn of more rolling blackouts--”_

“Oh, thank god,” Mark groaned when he switched on the window AC and it began working. He immediately stuck his face in front of the fan, wiping at his sweat with the hem of his shirt. He felt gross and sticky with sweat, but he had finally gotten the air conditioner fixed. Teddy whined again, jumping on the couch so the air conditioner could reach him too.

“I know, buddy, you warned me not to use the central air before the blackout hit, but I didn’t listen, because you are a dog. So until we get it fixed, meet our new AC.” He gave the unit a pat before reaching to scratch Teddy behind the ears. Kwazzi appeared from under the couch and leapt up onto the cushions, perching on top of Teddy’s back. The retriever didn’t even seem to notice the feline standing on him, too busy cooling off.

The front door opened and Renjun hurried inside, wearing a ridiculous sun hat that he somehow managed to make look good. His cheeks were flushed red with the heat, but he still looked amazing. Mark felt like a total mess next to him. “It’s _so_ hot outside. Ah, hello, my boys.”

“Hi baby,” Mark said, holding his hands up when Renjun tried to approach him for a kiss. “I’m really gross right now, let me shower first.”

“I don’t care,” Renjun reminded him, but he went to give their pets kisses instead. “Oh, wow, new air conditioner.”

“Yeah,” Mark said with a sigh, packing away his tools. “Oh, hey, how’s working with the world’s most evil boss?”

“Actually,” Renjun began seriously, and Mark immediately stopped with the jokes, giving Renjun his full attention. “We need to talk about Stanzler. I told you Andrew makes his money as an energy trader, right?”

“Uh…” Mark wracked his brain, but he remembered Renjun mentioning it sometime last week. “Right! Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, it’s actually worse than that. I’ve been working with his assistant, Brooke, and she thinks Stanzler is involved in creating the blackouts,” Renjun continued.

Mark’s jaw dropped. “Say that again?”

“Yeah.” Renjun nodded sympathetically. “That was my reaction too. Brooke overheard Stanzler talking about it with another trader, so she did some digging. She thinks that they’re withholding supply during peak hours and then selling the energy to the city for triple the rate.”

“Jun, these are very serious allegations,” Mark warned. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Renjun -- he did. But he didn’t know whether he could trust the assistant. This wasn’t just an ordinary, small-time crime. People were dying because of the extreme heat.

“I know!” Renjun said, throwing his hands up.

“There have been four confirmed deaths and it’s cost the city tens of millions,” Mark continued.

“That’s why I’m telling you,” Renjun retorted.

“All right, we _have_ to bring her in to the bureau,” Mark said.

Renjun shook his head. “No, she won’t. She’s terrified that someone’s gonna see her and tell Stanzler. You know, he actually threatened to shoot the painter today? I mean, I think he was joking, but at this point I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Okay, so where can I talk to Brooke?”

“Well, maybe you can come down to the museum while Stanzler’s not around,” Renjun suggested, and Mark nodded.

“Good idea.”

“You could bring Jaemin,” Renjun said.

Mark scowled. “Why would I bring Jaemin?”

“Well, baby, she’s really nervous. And Jaemin has a calming smile, you know? He can make anyone feel at ease.” Personally, Mark found Jaemin’s smile very disarming. He smiled like he knew all your secrets. He probably _did_ know all of Mark’s secrets. But Renjun was giving him a hopeful look, and he had never been able to say no to his husband.

“Fine, fine. I’ll bring Jaemin and his _‘calming_ _smile’_ ,” Mark said, but he didn’t regret agreeing when a beautiful smile bloomed on Renjun’s face.

“Thank you. You’re a good boy,” Renjun teased, but it still made Mark’s ears go red.

Teddy barked.

“And so are you, Teddy.” Renjun patted their dog on the head, and Teddy’s tail thumped happily against the couch. “Now come. You need a shower, and I would very much like to join you.”

Mark grinned and immediately got to his feet, following Renjun upstairs to the bathroom.

$$$

Renjun winced when Brooke began picking at her cuticles, so clearly nervous. Despite knowing that Stanzler wasn’t supposed to come in for the rest of the day, she looked like she was seconds away from breaking down.

“Your husband will be here soon, right?” Brooke asked, worrying at her lower lip.

“Yes, he’ll be here soon,” he assured her. “Do you wanna go over seating arrangements with Yvonne?”

“Okay,” she replied, and went off in search of Yvonne. Renjun sighed in relief, praying for Mark to hurry up. _He_ was seconds away from a nervous breakdown.

He was about to yank his phone out when he spotted Jaemin weaving through the crowd, dressed in Italian silk with his hair slicked back. He looked like he fit in perfectly with the elite class that Stanzler rubbed elbows with. Renjun nearly melted with relief.

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” Renjun said, latching onto Jaemin’s arm. “Where’s my husband? She’s kinda losing it.”

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Jaemin said, clearly trying to be soothing. “He said to meet him here.”

“Would you call him, please? See how close he is?” Renjun begged.

Jaemin gave him a sweet smile. “Of course.”

Renjun found himself relaxing a little. Jaemin’s smile really did have a calming effect. The calm went away when Brooke appeared out of nowhere, panic written all over her face.

“Andrew’s on his way.”

“What? I thought he was in Connecticut?”

“The meeting got canceled.” Brooke bit down on her lip. “I-I gotta go.”

“Hold on for just one second,” Renjun said, turning to find Jaemin, but he had already disappeared, presumably to call Mark.

Where the hell _was_ Mark?

$$$

“Jaemin.”

“How far away are you?” Jaemin asked.

“I had to borrow Jungwoo’s car. I would have been there in ten, but there’s an accident on fifth so… seventeen minutes maybe? But I’ll still be there ten minutes early,” Mark promised.

Jaemin looked around before putting the mic right up to his mouth, speaking in a low voice. “Uh, yeah, that might not be fast enough. Stanzler’s on his way right now.”

“Shit,” Mark cursed, and Jaemin heard him honking the horn. He smiled a little despite himself. “Do whatever you need to do to keep her calm, but don’t let her go.”

“You really miss your air conditioning, huh?”

“He made my dog upset,” Mark said angrily. “Now this is personal.”

$$$

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Wait--”

“Brooke Argyle?” Jaemin strode up to both of them with a gentle smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Agent Mark Lee. How are you?”

“I’m alright,” Brooke said automatically

Renjun shot him a look, and received a slight nudge in the side. _Play along,_ Jaemin’s expression seemed to say.

“Hey, hon, sorry I’m late,” Jaemin said, putting a loose arm around Renjun’s waist.

“Hi, _honey_ ,” Renjun drawled. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” He turned back to Brooke. “Renjun told me you have information that links Andrew Stanzler to the blackouts.”

Brooke’s phone chimed, and she quickly looked down. “Oh, no, he’s outside.”

“What your boss is doing is wrong,” Jaemin said quickly. “And it’s hurting a lot of people. Please, we need your help.”

“Listen, Brooke, you can trust my husband,” Renjun assured her. “There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect innocent people. You’ll be safe in his hands.”

“Okay,” Brooke said finally, and Renjun and Jaemin breathed a collective sigh in relief.

“Thank you,” Jaemin said eagerly, “Jun will be in touch.”

“Yeah,” was all Brooke said before she took off. Renjun watched her go, praying to god that she would be okay. He hoped she would be able to act normal around her boss, considering how anxious reporting him was making her feel. He couldn’t blame her -- he would be scared, too.

“Wow, did we really just do that?” Renjun said faintly.

“Did you see any other option?” Jaemin asked, letting go of Renjun’s waist and stepping back. Renjun caught a whiff of his cologne, something sweet and airy with a darker undertone, but he stopped himself from leaning in to get a better idea of the scent. He took another step back from Jaemin, his head feeling fuzzy.

“I guess you’re right,” he admitted.

“So, uh.” Jaemin chuckled nervously. “Which one of us is gonna tell Mark?”

Renjun glared.

“Never mind. I’ll tell Mark.”

$$$

“You impersonated an agent.”

“You told me to do whatever I needed to do,” Jaemin said defensively.

“I didn’t say commit a federal crime!” Mark snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I convinced her to come in,” Jaemin countered.

“Yeah, and now is the time to correct the situation by having her meet the real Agent Lee,” Mark huffed.

“She will blow out those doors so fast you won’t see her shadow,” Jaemin said, “You know why? Because the lights will be out from the power outage she couldn’t help us stop.”

Mark pointed a finger at him. “You do _not_ get to be me anymore.”

“Mark, she’s skittish,” Jaemin said patiently. “If I tell her that I impersonated you, she’ll never trust you, me, Renjun, or the FBI.” He sat down on Mark’s desk just as his phone rang. He grinned and tried reaching for it, but Mark slapped his hand away with a ruler.

“Don’t touch that!” He picked up his phone and held it to his ear. Jaemin waited, a knowing smirk on his face. “Hey, Renjun. Are you downstairs with Brooke? Great, I talked with Jaemin and we’re just gonna be honest with her.”

_Wait for it._

“That’s all that…”

“But Renjun…”

“Right, I understand. Okay, see you in a bit.”

Mark hung up, and Jaemin grinned at him. “Renjun talked you into it?”

He glared at Jaemin and stormed out of his office, leaning over the railing that overlooked the first floor of the office. “Listen up everybody! For the next hour, and _only the next hour,_ you will refer to Mr. Na as Special Agent Mark Lee.”

There was sparse laughter from all the other agents, and Jaemin could practically hear Mark’s scowl, even if he couldn’t see it.

“No laughing, no questions, just do it,” Mark ordered, and turned on his heel. He paused after a moment, and spun back around. “And _never_ speak of this again.”

$$$

“Hey hon,” Jaemin greeted Renjun when he walked into the office, Brooke in tow. He could feel Mark’s glare boring into his skin, but he was having too much fun to stop.

“Hi, honey,” Renjun said warily. “Great to see you.”

“I thought we were just going to be speaking with your husband,” Brooke murmured, eyeing Mark warily.

“Oh! We were, but actually this is, um…” Renjun shot Mark a look.

“Jaemin Na,” Mark introduced himself.

“Are you an agent too?” Brooke asked curiously, seeming to have forgotten a little bit of her apprehension.

“No, no.” Mark’s smile turned wicked. “But I wish I was. I’m just a consultant.”

Jaemin glared daggers at him. As _if_ he’d want to be an FBI mutt.

“So, how does that work?”

“Actually, I’m a criminal,” Mark said, staring Jaemin down. “I made a lot of really bad life choices which landed me in prison, but now I assist the FBI. As a matter of fact, had it not been for Agent Lee, I’d still be in prison, rotting behind bars.”

“You’re giving me way more credit than I deserve,” Jaemin said through gritted teeth.

“No, no, don’t be modest, Mark. You caught me, and you can send me back _anytime you want_.”

Renjun cleared his throat.

“Let’s just discuss the situation at hand,” Jaemin said with a glare. “So tell me, what role did Stanzler’s company play in all this?”

“Stanzler’s company is a broker,” Brooke explained. “New York’s electricity system is a deregulated market. So if someone bought up enough energy, they could temporarily create an artificial shortage.”

“I’ll talk to the--

“You should talk to the--” Mark began at the same time.

“Um,” Brooke said, then turned to Jaemin. “Is there any way I could just speak with you?”

Jaemin leaned over Mark’s desk. “I know Mark seems intimidating, but he’s very useful in cases like yours. In fact, I think he’s the single most valuable asset we have here at the Bureau.”

Mark visibly bristled. “Please--”

“On second thought,” Jaemin began, “Jaemin, could you get us some coffee? I like mine with cream, no sugar.”

“We have agents for that,” Mark said.

“I have something better than agents,” Jaemin said sweetly, “I have you.”

“I could use a coffee, too.” Renjun mused, and Mark sighed, but got to his feet. He glared at Jaemin as he walked past, making a slicing motion across his throat. Jaemin just smiled at him.

“I didn’t want to say this in front of your criminal consultant,” Brooke whispered once Mark was gone, “but I think Stanzler’s looking for a burglar.”

“What’s he trying to steal?”

“I don’t know,” Brooke admitted. “But I was listening in on a very cryptic phone conversation he had with someone named Bill Rosko. I googled the name, and Bill has a criminal record for breaking…”

“Breaking and entering, yeah,” Jaemin finished.

“You know of him then?” Renjun asked.

Jaemin nodded. “You could say that.”

$$$

“Don’t you hate it when Mark makes you get coffee?”

Mark glared at Lucas who was standing next to the coffee maker with a mug in his hand. “I hope you know that you’re buying me lunch for the rest of the week for that quip.”

Lucas shrugged. “Worth it.”

Jungwoo appeared next to them, a confused expression on his angelic face. “Hey boss, why is Jaemin in your office?”

Lucas grinned. “Jaemin is posing as Mark so a witness will tell us about an energy collusion scam.”

“Oh my god, that’s _awesome,_ ” Jungwoo said gleefully. “I’m going in.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Mark said.

“Come on,” Jungwoo whined, “let me bring him this file.”

“What do you have?” Mark asked, reaching for the folder.

“Uh-uh, this is for Agent Mark Lee,” Jungwoo said, holding the file up so Mark couldn’t reach it.

“Jungwoo…” Mark warned.

“It’s just his file,” Jungwoo replied with a grin. “He requested to see it.”

“Alright,” Mark relented. “Now I gotta go find out what Brooke had to say to me.” He picked up the coffees with a grumble and headed to his office.

“Oh, this is gonna be _good,_ ” he heard Jungwoo say to Lucas.

$$$

“A thief? Sounds like a job for Jaemin Na.”

“Yeah, too bad Stanzler’s already made me,” Jaemin replied, playing with the Rubik’s cube in his hands. “I would love to find out what he was trying to steal.”

“You still can,” Mark said, “or, the new Jaemin Na can.”

Jaemin chuckled, but it faded when he caught sight of Mark’s expression. “You’re serious? Mark, that’s bold. But posing as a thief, particularly as me… we’d be better off sending in any number of competent criminal CIs.”

“Uh-huh,” Mark said dryly before shaking his head. “Nope. I’m retaking control of this case before anything else goes sideways. Talk to Brooke, tell her to put Jaemin Na, thief, on his books.”

“That’s you?” Jaemin asked skeptically.

Mark grinned. “That’s me.”

$$$

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork required to send someone undercover,” Jaemin complained to Donghyuck later that day.

“Isn’t that the suit’s job?”

“Nah, he made me do it since I told a whistle-blower I was Agent Mark Lee,” Jaemin said with a sigh, leaning back against the couch. There wasn’t enough wine in the world that could make this paperwork any easier to fill out.

Donghyuck laughed. “Why would you do that?”

“We were gonna lose her,” Jaemin explained, “I had to. Now I’m stuck with the IS9 form, A.K.A the whistle-blower declaration of facts.”

“Okay, remember when your mother said not to cross your eyes because they’ll get stuck that way? Yeah, the same thing holds for impersonating a suit. Get out fast or I’m gonna find you wearing wingtips.” Donghyuck shuddered dramatically at the very thought of it.

“Oh, shut up,” Jaemin said. “I’d never become like Mark.”

$$$

“The emergency exits are here and here. There’s only one entrance to the exhibit and a service corridor. If you’re not planning on robbing the museum, why would you need to know all this?”

Mark laughed, pulling Renjun in closer. “It’s my in to impress Stanzler.”

“You know, it’s sexy watching you plan a heist,” Renjun said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah? You think I should go rogue?” Mark asked.

“Yes,” Renjun joked in a serious tone. Mark laughed again, dropping a kiss on Renjun’s lips.

“Alright, say goodbye to Mark Lee.” Mark rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before sticking out a hand to Renjun. “Hi, I’m Jaemin. Jaemin Na.”

Renjun giggled. Mark gave him a wounded look. “What?”

“Nothing,” Renjun said, but he was still laughing.

“You don’t like my Jaemin?” Mark asked, offended.

“Well,” Renjun drawled, “he kind of… has a way of pulling you in when he talks. Quiet and kinda sexy.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips. “Sexy?”

“Yes,” Renjun replied immediately. “And he doesn’t put his hands on his hips. He gets people to do what he wants by charming them, and he doesn’t rely on a badge.”

“Oh, really?” He wrapped his arms around Renjun’s waist, reeling him back in again and pressing their foreheads together, lowering his voice. “Well, you are so intelligent, and I would never be able to do this without you.”

“Much better,” Renjun praised, eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. “Baby, you know you have to take your wedding ring off, right?”

“Oh. Right.” Mark slipped his wedding ring off and handed it to Renjun, who put it inside his pocket. “I feel naked without it.”

“Ooh, getting naked,” Renjun said with a smirk, wrapping his fingers around Mark’s tie. “Now there’s an idea.”

$$$

Brooke led Mark towards an office, and he could already spot Stanzler at the desk. He was a large, imposing man, even seated, and Mark understood why Brooke was so nervous about whistleblowing.

“Mr. Stanzler, Jaemin Na is here,” Brooke said, poking her head into the office after knocking.

“Who?” Stanzler grunted.

“Your 11 o’clock, sir.” Brooke guided him into the office and then left, softly shutting the door behind her.

“I understand you’re interested in an acquisition,” Mark began without a moment of hesitation. Stanzler eyed him suspiciously.

“Who told you that?”

“Big Bill Rosko,” Mark answered. “He said you offered him a job.”

“Yeah, well Big Bill has a big mouth,” Stanzler snapped, “and I never offered him anything.”

“Well if there is a job,” Mark drawled. “I’m your man.”

“Sure you are,” Stanzler said with a chuckle. “Everybody in your business says the same thing, right?”

“What if I told you I could rob this place in under twenty minutes?”

Stanzler snorted. “I’d say good luck. We’ve got the top of the line security system.”

“It’s good,” Mark replied, “but nothing’s perfect. Two cameras cover the front and back but they’re blind to the side exits. Your roof? A burglar’s dream. One inch wood and asphalt.”

“What exactly would you leave with? Every display is laser-guarded, and surrounded by heat, motion, and weight sensors,” Stanzler bragged.

“I know,” Mark said, “which is why I’d skip the display and hit your private collection.”

That got Stanzler’s attention. “How did you know about that?”

“Like I said,” Mark said, allowing a cocky grin to spread on his face. “I’m the best.”

$$$

“Alright. Stanzler needs a thief to steal a flash drive from this man,” Mark said from the front of the conference room, pressing the remote to turn the projector on. “His name is Francis Luntz. He’s another trader.”

“Slow down, Na, I wanna hear details about the meeting,” Lucas said, and Jaemin laughed.

“Be quiet,” Mark barked, but there was a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Based on their trading records, and what little information I got from Stanzler. I believe the two are using their combined market power to create temporary shortages.”

“But did you flaunt your past crimes?” Jaemin asked.

“No, I did not flaunt my past crimes,” Mark said indignantly.

“How did you convince him to hire you?” Jungwoo questioned from his spot beside Lucas.

“I’m that good,” Mark replied breezily before moving on. “These guys are incredibly careful. From what I can gather Luntz doesn’t trust Stanzler. He secretly taped one of their meetings. This video, which is now on the flash drive, is what Stanzler wants me to retrieve.”

“Steal,” Jaemin corrected.

Mark shot him a look. “Right, steal.”

“Why can’t we just get a warrant?” Lucas asked.

“Well, we could, but Stanzler doesn’t know exactly what’s on the tape. So if we shake Luntz down and the video is insufficient, we blow our chances of catching either one of these guys. But I do want a warrant for Luntz’s home.”

Jaemin scoffed. “I don’t need a warrant to break in.”

“This Jaemin Na does. That’s it for now,” Mark finished, and everyone left the conference room. “Listen, I’m gonna need some training for my break-in.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Jaemin grinned. “I’ve got you covered.”

$$$

Mark was going to regret this.

“Ah, my pupil has arrived,” Jaemin’s friend, Donghyuck, said when he opened the door of Jaemin’s apartment.

“Do you not have your own place?” Mark asked. “It seems like you’re always here.”

“Lesson one: I ask the questions,” Donghyuck said. Mark rolled his eyes, but stepped into the apartment. Jaemin was clearly absent, but he was still within his radius so it was none of Mark’s concern. “Now, take the pebble from my hand.”

“Seriously? Kung fu?” Mark deadpanned.

“I’m preparing you for your mission,” Donghyuck replied. Mark gave him a look. “Alright, fine. Give me twenty dollars.” Mark just kept staring. “Do you want my help or not?”

Mark sighed and took out his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill and slapping it into Donghyuck’s hand. He immediately pocketed the money and turned away.

“Lesson two: we take, we don’t give,” Donghyuck said. “Now, moving on--”

“Give me my twenty back or I’m going to arrest you.”

Donghyuck gave him a disapproving look. “Oh, you’re going to be a very difficult student.”

“Forget it, I’m leaving.” Before Mark could move, there was a knock on the door. Donghyuck lit up, bouncing over to the door and pulling it open to reveal Jaehyun, dressed in silk pajamas with his hair pushed back with a black headband.

“How’s he doing?”

“Horribly,” Donghyuck said gleefully even though they hadn’t started yet. “Okay, I guess we can learn lockpicking later. Now it’s time to learn to pickpocket.” He gestured to the mannequin wearing a suit jacket covered in little bells. Jaehyun made a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

“Oh, Doyoung would be so happy to know his training jacket is back in action,” Jaehyun gushed. “Are you teaching him to run a cross?”

“Jaemin wants to run a bird dog.”

“Can we please get a move on?” Mark asked tiredly.

“Ugh fine. You’re really no fun. I didn’t think you’d be as boring as your suit,” Donghyuck complained. Mark frowned down at his suit. “Alright your first task is to drop a bug into Stanzler’s jacket so your evil little friends in the van can listen in on him while you fumble around the house.”

“Do we need a commentary?” Mark asked, annoyed.

Donghyuck ignored him. “But dropping the bug isn’t the hard part. Retrieving it is… without jingling the bells.”

Mark reached into the pocket, but his thumb brushed up against the fabric and the bells jingled. He tried again, and again, with different angles and different speeds, but he couldn’t get it out without disturbing the bells.

“This is impossible,” he groaned.

Donghyuck laughed. “Understatement is the key. Use these two fingers,” he waved his index and middle finger, “as tweezers…” he dipped his fingers into the pocket and extracted the bug. Not a single bell jingled. “...so that the thumb will never touch the mark.”

Mark tried again, and managed to get the bug out. He stared at it in amazement, pinched between his middle and index finger.

“Wow, looking sharp, Mark,” he heard, and when he turned around Jaemin was standing in the doorway with Jaehyun.

“Thank you. There’s a surprisingly good teacher in that round little head of his.”

“Let’s keep going,” Donghyuck said, glaring at Jaemin for interrupting, then at Mark for the quip about his head shape. “You have a long way to go before you’re ready to commit a crime.”

$$$

“Hey, keep your eyes on the prize, okay? This is serious, Stanzler doesn’t mess around. Now remember, backup is ten seconds away--”

“You don’t give me the “be careful” speech,” Mark interrupted, amused. “I invented that speech.”

“Yeah, but since I’m you, I should give--”

“You’re Jaemin inside the van, and I’m Jaemin outside the van,” Mark said, adjusting the watch that was serving as his “earpiece”, or rather -- his communication device with the surveillance van.

“Okay, okay,” Jaemin said, and his look of concern transformed into something cocky and arrogant. “Now go out there and make me proud.”

Mark rolled his eyes, but he hopped out of the van with Jaemin’s words in mind. He kept his strides long and confident as he walked to the location where Stanzler was waiting for him, a block away from Luntz’s home.

“Jaemin.”

“Mr. Stanzler,” Mark greeted.

“When you get to the master bedroom look for anything called ‘Project Edison’.”

“Got it.” Mark nodded.

“My meeting with Luntz will last twenty minutes. You have exactly that to find the video and return to the car,” Stanzler said. “Otherwise you’re on your own.”

“Twenty minutes is plenty of time,” Mark said.

“It better be,” Stanzler replied. “Get in the trunk.”

Mark brushed past Stanzler, slipping a bug in his pocket before opening up the trunk of the car and grimacing.

The only thing good about folding himself up in the trunk of Stanzler’s Bentley was that it was both empty and clean, smelling faintly of lemon cleaning product. Mark was flexible, but he could still feel his muscles cramping, and he winced.

“Heads up, guys, I think we’re pulling into Luntz’s mansion,” Mark murmured.

“Good, we’ve got ears on you,” Jaemin said.

“Wait for me to confirm that,” Jungwoo snapped.

Mark waited for a moment before deciding the coast must be clear and popped the trunk open, climbing out and ducking around the side of the house.

“Heading for the basement door.”

“Okay, we have ears on you,” Jungwoo said. Mark pulled out the lock picking kit that Donghyuck had given him and began working on the lock, listening for the clicks that indicated the pins had slid into the right spot.

“I’m in,” Mark said when he pushed the door open.

“So, tell me about this guy, Wheelock, your contact at the power company,” Mark heard through his earpiece. The voice wasn’t familiar, so he assumed it was Luntz. He headed up the stairs cautiously, bypassing the sitting room entirely and heading up the stairs. “What else did he say?”

“They have budget cunts, fewer controls,” Stanzler said as Mark slowly opened the door to the master bedroom, shutting it behind him with a soft _snick._ “Which makes monitoring us that much more difficult.”

“I’m in the master bedroom,” Mark murmured.

“All right, check the drawers and the cabinets. People usually hide things where they’re easily accessible.” Just as Donghyuck had taught him. Mark rummaged through the drawers with his gloved hands, finding a key in the bottom one.

“I’ve got a safe key. Centurion.”

“Look for an in-wall safe.” Mark first checked behind the mirror, then in the closet. He found the safe hidden behind a painting on the wall and quickly unlocked it. He opened it up to find the hard drive, and quickly plugged in the device that would send a copy of the files to the surveillance van.

“Guys, listen to this,” he heard Lucas say, and the feed from the bug in Stanzler’s jacket was amplified.

“This Chip Wheelock, the guy at E.C.H...” Luntz was saying.

“That’s East Coast Hydroelectric,” Jungwoo said.

“...what exactly does he know?”

“He knows he wants in. We got a guy in the power company, flips a switch, rolling blackouts. We make a fortune.”

“No, no way. It’s too risky.”

“You mean it’s too easy? Look, go to the party on Saturday night. Talk to the guy, spend a few minutes with him and see what he has to say. If you don’t like it, take a walk. No harm, no foul,” Stanzler said, just as the device beeped, indicating that the files had been transferred.

“Mark, Stanzler and Luntz may have an executive from East Coast Hydroelectric in their pocket. He’s meeting them at the party on Saturday,” Jaemin summarized.

“Alright, we wait until Saturday and take down all three of them. Video’s been copied, I’m on my way out.”

“What’s your exit plan?” Jaemin asked.

“Same as my entrance plan.” He made it all the way downstairs and out the basement door without incident. He hopped into the trunk and shut it just as Stanzler came outside. He felt the car start and about a block away, it stopped again and he got out

“Did you get it?” Stanzler demanded, rounding the Bentley

“Yup, it’s right here,” Mark said, handing over the flash drive. At the same time, he sunk his fingers into Stanzler’s pocket and swiftly extracted the bug.

“Very good.” Stanzler said, handing him an envelope full of cash.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Mark said, thumbing through the bills, more for the theatrics than anything.

“Want another job?” Stanzler asked suddenly.

_This is my in._ “What do you have in mind?”

“Geller museum, Saturday, five o’clock. Tell no one, ask no questions, and I’ll pay you double.” Stanzler said. Mark almost wanted to laugh, but he managed to keep it together.

“I’m in.”

$$$

“This is what was on the drive.”

Back at the Bureau, Mark was at the front of the room giving a debriefing once again. Jaemin had left his Rubik’s cube in his cubicle, giving Mark his full attention. The way Mark acted at the Bureau was different from the way he was at home with Renjun, or the way he was when it was just him and Jaemin. He hated to admit it, but Jaemin found the contrast between the three interesting.

“Luntz recorded this meeting and kept his mouth shut, even though, we believe, he went on to participate. On Saturday, Stanzler’s trying to bring in _this_ man in order to sweeten the pot.” Mark changed the slide to a picture of a dark haired man, his profile taken from the ECH website. “Chip Wheelock, senior manager at East Coast Hydroelectric. With someone at the power plant able to flip the switch, they’ll be able to escalate their plan.”

“That means more blackouts,” Lucas said.

“Yes, but not if we stop them,” Mark said. “I’ve been invited to an event as Jaemin, so we can take advantage of this opportunity by slipping a video feed on Stanzler.”

“How are we gonna do that?” Lucas asked.

“Brooke was able to get Stanzler’s suit for Saturday from the dry cleaner’s. We installed a camera in place of the lapel button. Brooke will make sure Stanzler is wearing that jacket,” Mark said. “Jungwoo, Lucas, you’ll be in the van.”

“Always,” Jungwoo said.

“I like the van,” Lucas commented. Jaemin personally hated the van.

“And, as a precaution, I’ll be accompanying Renjun,” Jaemin said brightly.

“As my husband’s husband,” Mark grumbled.

Jungwoo and Lucas burst into gleeful laughter and hoots while Mark yelled at them to shut up. Jaemin just grinned.

_This is going to be fun._

$$$

Jaemin adjusted the earpiece he was wearing as he followed Renjun to where Stanzler was standing.

“Tell your staff they get a hundred dollars each if they don’t spill anything. They get fired if they do,” Stanzler said to Renjun.

“Jun did say to you know how to motivate your employees,” Jaemin commented, but Stanzler was already walking away, complaining about the size of the ice sculpture. Jaemin knew how painstaking it was to carve ice, especially one so large and detailed, and he felt a little sympathetic for the poor artist.

“I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous about what’s going to happen tonight,” Renjun said, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was wearing delicate silver earrings that dangled from his lobes and reflected the light. Jaemin stared, his mouth going dry. “I don’t know how comfortable I feel knowing that Mark is in danger. I mean, it’s one thing to be at home, but it’s another to be right here and know that I can’t do anything to help him.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jaemin said. “Your husband is a very capable man. And besides, he has me, Jungwoo and like fifteen other agents as backup in this room alone.”

“I know,” Renjun sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust him, or you and the others… I guess I just wish he could rely on me too.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jaemin said with a snort. “Mark wouldn’t be half the agent he is today if it wasn’t for you. You know what he said? Don’t tell him I told you ‘cause I was totally eavesdropping on him and Jungwoo. He said that he wants to make the world safer for your future kids.”

Renjun looked up at him for a moment, eyes shining, and then he suddenly threw his arms around Jaemin. Startled, Jaemin hugged him back, loosely at first, but he tightened his arms and sunk into Renjun’s hold. It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him like this.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Renjun murmured, “I really needed to hear it.”

“Oh,” was all Jaemin could manage in reply. He couldn’t remember a time where he had been rendered speechless like this.

“I’ve got Stanzler’s camera online,” came Lucas’s voice from Jaemin’s earpiece, and he startled, pulling away from Renjun, his face going red. He had forgotten where they were. “Anything he sees, we’ll see.”

“Jaemin! Have you met Mark and Renjun Lee?” Stanzler led Mark over to where Renjun and Jaemin were standing.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Jaemin said. “I’m Mark, and this is my husband, Renjun.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Mark said, his smile strained.

“I could really use a drink right now,” Renjun muttered.

“Mr. Stanzler, Mr. Luntz is here.” Brooke appeared out of nowhere, dressed in a fancy top and skirt with her hair done up in curls. She looked nice despite the circles under her eyes, unable to be concealed with makeup. Jaemin felt bad for her -- she never asked for any of this.

“Want to help me out here for a second?” Stanzler said to Mark.

“Yeah, you’re the boss,” Mark said, and they disappeared together.

“You guys having fun?” Jungwoo appeared next to them, holding two glasses of champagne which he happily handed over when Renjun reached for them.

“So this is undercover work, huh?” Renjun muttered, knocking back the glass like it was a shot.

“I’m sure Mark is hating every second of it,” Jungwoo said with a laugh. He turned to Jaemin. “And you? How does it feel to be an FBI agent?”

Jaemin offered him a weak smile. “Still trying it on.”

$$$

“What are we doing?” Mark asked.

“Your assignment,” Stanzler answered.

“Everyone hear that?” He heard Lucas’s voice in his earpiece. “It’s showtime.”

Stanzler unlocked the doors to the gallery, revealing shelves of antique pottery, statues, and other pieces of art. It was an impressive collection.

“You donated all this?” Mark questioned, scanning the room.

“Yep,” Stanzler answered shortly. “I’d like you to watch over someone. My friend Francis is not having a very good day.”

“That’s my assignment?” Mark asked, stunned. “To babysit Luntz?”

“Yeah. I’ll have more for you when I get back,” was all Stanzler said before he left the gallery. Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair before moving through the maze of shelves. He found Luntz standing between two shelves of rustic vases, looking distressed.

“A lot on your mind?” He asked him. Luntz startled, spinning around, but he seemed to relax when he caught sight of Mark.

“Yeah,” Luntz answered shortly. “Listen, I don’t know what he told you, but I’m not interested. I mean this thing… it’s gone way beyond what I ever imagined. You two do whatever you want, but I’m out. Sorry, Wheelock.”

“Wait,” Mark said, mind racing. _This doesn’t make any sense._ “He told you I was Chip Wheelock?”

“Yeah? Are you not?” Mark froze. Why would Stanzler tell Luntz he was Wheelock? He racked his brain for an answer, then paled, running for the entrance. He yanked on the door handle, but it was no use. They were locked in.

“What the hell’s going on?” Luntz asked.

“I know about your energy scheme with Stanzler,” Mark said hurriedly, taking off in the other direction. He heard Luntz following him, but didn’t bother to turn around.

“You what?”

“He’s planning to double-cross you,” Mark explained. _And me._

“H-He can’t do that! I have leverage over him!” Luntz exclaimed.

“Actually, you don’t,” Mark told him. “Stanzler had me break into your estate and steal the hard drive.”

Luntz stared at him. “Who the hell are you?”

Mark didn’t bother answering, instead pulling out his phone. “Lucas, we’re locked in the Stanzler gallery.”

Lucas didn’t hesitate or ask any questions. It was one of the things Mark loved about him. “I’m on it, Mark.”

$$$

“Guys, another blackout’s about to sweep through this sector,” came Lucas’s voice in Jaemin’s earpiece. “Jungwoo, find Renjun.”

Jungwoo ran through the crowd, gracefully dodging people left and right until he found Renjun on the other side of the room. He grabbed him by the arm, giving the group of people an apologetic smile. “Renjun, where’s the backup generator?”

“Downstairs,” Renjun replied, looking confused.

“Let’s get down there, now,” Jungwoo said.

“Okay,” Renjun said, heading for the nearest stairwell. Jungwoo followed, one hand at his gun.

“Who’s got eyes on Stanzler?” Jungwoo asked.

“I see him,” came Jaemin’s voice. “He’s on the far side of the room.”

“I’m on him,” Lucas said, and Jungwoo smiled. Lucas would stop him. They sprinted down the stairs, Jungwoo’s long legs easily keeping up with Renjun who was practically flying down each flight. They made it to the basement and ran across the room to the back up generator.

“Shit, it’s been disengaged--”

The lights flickered and went out.

$$$

“Ladies and gentleman,” a voice boomed over the P.A. system, “due to the blackout, the museum is now in lockdown.”

“Lucas, where’s the team?” Mark asked.

“On their way in,” came Lucas’s response.

“Who are you talking to?” Luntz asked, bewildered.

“The FBI,” Mark replied.

“Of course,” Luntz said, shaking his head. “This is just perfect.”

Mark wanted to slap some sense into him. “Stanzler told you Wheelock would be here in order to lure you out.”

Luntz’s eyes bulged. “Why?”

“My guess? When the power goes out he can circumvent the security cameras and come back here unnoticed.”

“What’s the point?” Luntz asked before he finally seemed to catch on. “Oh god, he’s gonna kill me.”

“If I’m right,” Mark said grimly, “he’s gonna try to kill us both.”

“Mark, Stanzler’s making his move. He’s out of the atrium but I can’t tell his location,” Lucas said.

“He’s in the Stanzler gallery,” he heard Jaemin saying. “We need to get a key.”

Mark pulled out his lockpicks, handing Luntz his phone with the flashlight turned on. “Hold this,” he instructed. “I don’t know if I can get this open…”

“Mark, there’s another light in that room,” Jaemin’s voice filtered in through his earpiece. He must be somewhere outside the gallery, looking in through the windows. “It’s Stanzler, he’s got a gun.”

“Shit,” Mark cursed, yanking his phone from Luntz’s hands and turning off the light. He felt his way through the dark, following the shelves and ducking behind one, looking over his shoulder for the light source. Luntz was nowhere to be seen.

Mark moved through the shelves as quietly as possible, and crept up behind Stanzler just as the gallery door burst open and Jaemin charged in, holding up a badge.

“FBI! Drop your weapon!” Jaemin yelled. “You’re surrounded, Stanzler!”

Mark cursed Jaemin’s impulsivity, but took advantage of Stanzler’s surprise to slam his arm into the crook of his elbow, snatching the gun from his hands when he crumpled and aiming it at his head. Stanzler’s eyes went wide just as Lucas burst into the room, a team of agents in tow.

“Like he said.” Mark gestured to Jaemin with a tilt of his head. “ FBI has you surrounded”

$$$

“I didn’t know you had moves like that,” Jaemin said the next morning when Mark handed him a cup of coffee. He gave him a bleary smile, perching on the edge of his desk. Mark didn’t even scold him, surprisingly.

“I didn’t know I authorized a badge,” Mark replied.

“Well, I needed one,” Jaemin defended himself. “I was an FBI agent.”

Mark snorted. “You enjoyed being me.”

Jaemin smiled. “I’ll admit there’s a certain… allure to your profession. How about you?”

“Being Jaemin Na has its charms,” Mark said with a grin.

“Ignoring convention? Embracing your identity?” Jaemin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, and I do look good in all black,” Mark joked.

“You do,” Jaemin said seriously.

Mark gave him a look, but kept talking. “I have a feeling I had to work a lot harder fitting into your world than you did fitting into mine.”

Jaemin shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”

$$$

He was dreaming.

He could tell he was dreaming, because everything was a little bit foggy around the edges. He was… in a living room? He was in Mark’s living room. He recognized the couch and the coffee table, but everything else was fuzzy where there were gaps in his memory. Teddy was sprawled on the floor, but when he blinked, the retriever was gone. He looked at the couch to see Renjun sitting with Mark’s head in his lap.

Renjun looked up, and when he caught sight of Jaemin standing there, he smiled so brightly it made Jaemin’s chest ache.

“Mark,” Renjun murmured, tugging at Mark’s ear. “Wake up.”

Mark batted sleepily at Renjun’s hands, mumbling something Jaemin couldn’t hear. The room blurred, and when it focused again Mark was sitting up, squinting at him. He looked… _cute_ with his hair rucked up and his eyes glazed over from his nap.

“Oh, you’re home,” Mark said.

_Home?_ Jaemin thought.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come over here and give me a proper greeting,” Renjun said, and Jaemin’s limbs began moving without him telling them to. He ended up on the couch next to Renjun. He was wearing his dainty silver earrings.

Two fingers tilted his chin up, and Renjun leaned in.

Jaemin woke up before their lips could touch, and he stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding. He could still feel a phantom touch under his jaw. He could still smell Renjun’s scent, though it was only familiar because it was Mark’s cologne.

_It was just a dream,_ he told himself, unable to fall back asleep.

He tried to ignore the feeling in his chest that resembled something like longing for a dream that would never come true.

$$$

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around Renjun’s waist. He marveled at how perfectly Renjun fit in his embrace.

“You got the generator on,” Renjun said happily.

“I couldn’t leave you in the dark,” Mark murmured, pressing a light kiss just behind Renjun’s ear. Kwazzi clawed at his pants for attention, so he bent down to pick the cat up.

“Mm, welcome home, Agent Lee,” Renjun said, taking Kwazzi from his arms and pulling Mark in for a kiss.

“It’s good to be home, Mr. Lee.”

$$$

Jaemin picked up his palette again, mixing more titanium white into the yellow ochre, adding the colour to the petals of the flower he was painting. Now that they had just completed a case, he had more time for art.

It had been a while since he created anything for the sole purpose of creating, but he was finally finished with his piece. Leaving it to dry, he brought his brushes over to the sink to clean them. Just as he was laying them out on a towel, there was a knock on the door.

He wiped his hands on another towel and crossed the apartment, opening the front door. Standing there in a cropped leather jacket, his hair now bleached light blonde, was someone he never expected to see so soon.

“Hello, Jaemin. Did you miss me?”

“Y-Yangyang, what are you doing here?” Jaemin choked out.

Yangyang’s eyes hardened. “I’m here to take back what you stole from me.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Wow,” Yangyang drawled, pushing past Jaemin and into his apartment. Jaemin didn’t bother trying to tell him to leave, instead shutting the door so they didn't disturb Jaehyun. Yangyang looked around the apartment, peering into the kitchen and out the balcony doors. “You’re doing pretty well for yourself.”

He scanned Jaemin up and down, his eyes catching on the tracker fastened around his ankle. His eyes went wide, and he burst into laughter, clutching at his sides. “Oh my god, they really do have you on a leash. You’re wearing the FBI like a ball and a chain. Oh, this is too good. The great Jaemin Na, collared conman and the FBI’s _bitch._ ”

“What do you want from me, Yangyang?” Jaemin asked tiredly, moving to sit down on the couch. If he was going to let Yangyang talk circles around him, he was going to at least be comfortable.

The smile faded quickly from Yangyang’s face. Once upon a time, Yangyang had looked upon him with fondness and adoration, but now there was nothing but anger in his eyes.

“I want my ruby, Jaemin.”

Jaemin winced. “Look, Yangyang, I’m sorry for abandoning y--”

“I don’t want apologies!” Yangyang exploded, “just give me the damn ruby, Jaemin, and I’ll be out of your hair for good. Just like you wanted.”

“Wait,” Jaemin said, mind reeling, “Yangyang, wait. I don’t have the ruby.”

Yangyang recoiled like he had been slapped. “What the hell do you mean you don’t have the ruby?”

“Well, just what I said! I don’t have it, I never managed to steal it. I got caught, and they started firing at me, so I booked it. By the time I got away from the authorities, you wouldn’t pick up my calls.”

The ruby they were referring to was the Sunrise Ruby, the most expensive ruby in the world, worth thirty million. It was mined in Myanmar, mounted by Cartier, and sold to an anonymous buyer in Geneva. Yangyang had found out who bought it and where it was being kept, in the safe of the owner’s house. He had teamed up with Jaemin in order to steal it and split the money, and it had been Jaemin’s job to infiltrate a party. But he had gotten caught in the master bedroom, and had nearly gotten killed. By the time he had escaped, the authorities had been notified and were on the lookout for him. He spent almost three days running before he managed to return to the States.

He hadn’t known that Yangyang thought he had stolen it and abandoned him. He thought Yangyang was pissed at him for ditching, and he had every right to be. From what he gathered, Yangyang had an even more difficult time getting out of Switzerland because of him, all because he had made a rookie mistake and gotten caught.

“This whole time? You never had it?” Yangyang asked, looking lost. He was usually bigger than life, but right now he looked so small, curled in on himself like this. “But Felix… Felix said you had it and you were looking for a fence.”

Jaemin’s lip curled into a sneer at the mention of his arch nemesis’ name. Yangyang hadn’t been around when his and Felix’s relationship went south. Felix Lee was another conman running out of New York, though Jaemin hadn’t seen him around in a while. They used to run long cons together until Felix abandoned him for Chris Bang.

“I forgot you didn’t know, but Felix and I aren’t exactly the bestest of friends right now. Actually, I’m pretty sure he hates my guts. I think he lied to you to make me look bad, or maybe he really did think I had it, but I don’t. I swear to you, Yangyang. I never had it,” Jaemin said, looking Yangyang right in the eyes.

He could see it when Yangyang finally realized he was telling the truth, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, I believe you.”

Jaemin smiled, but it quickly turned into a wince when Yangyang punched him in the shoulder, hard enough that Jaemin’s arm immediately began to throb. “And fuck you for thinking I’d be mad that you got caught.”

“I didn’t mean to ditch you,” Jaemin said quietly. “I dropped my phone when the guards started shooting, and I couldn’t stop for long enough to get a new one.”

“I know,” Yangyang said, dropping on the couch next to him. “It’s fine, Jaemin. I was pissed because I thought you had the ruby, but you don’t, so I guess I can’t really be mad anymore.”

“So Felix is trying to ruin my relationships, huh?” Jaemin asked, rubbing at his temple. He knew Felix resented him for what happened with Chenle, but he didn’t think it would be this bad.

Yangyang looked amused. “Do we still have a relationship?”

“Not really,” Jaemin admitted, “but I’d like to be friends again, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah,” Yangyang said, a brilliant, familiar smile taking over his face. “I’d like that.”

$$$

“Morning, Mark.”

Jaemin said from his cubicle, abandoning his paperwork when he caught sight of Mark walking into the office. Mark turned to him and gave him a smile, despite how stressed he looked.

“Morning,” he replied before gesturing to the man behind him. “This is Agent Landry. Agent Landry, meet Jaemin Na.”

“Ah, the con man turned FBI consultant,” Agent Landry said.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Jaemin said, flashing a grin.

“Well, you’re hard to miss,” Agent Landry replied.

“Agent Landry is here from the Dallas Field Office,” Mark explained. “He’s following a boiler room case.”

“Actually, I’m still catching Lee up on the details,” Landry said. “Nice to meet you.” He didn’t sound happy to meet Jaemin at all, but law enforcement rarely were. He turned to Mark. “You think Na is the right man for the job?”

It was like Jaemin wasn’t sitting right there. He rolled his eyes, turning back to his report but keeping one ear open.

“Oh, yeah,” Mark said immediately, and Jaemin felt a little bit touched.

“He’s a criminal,” Landry pointed out.

“So are the guys in the boiler room,” Mark said, sounding annoyed. “Look, he’s on a tracking anklet. We can pull a map on his movements at any time. When he’s working with me, we don’t worry about it. When he’s off the clock, he’s on a two mile radius. He goes outside that, we get an alert.”

Jaemin looked up to see Landry still looking unsure. Mark was visibly irritated now -- Jaemin had come to learn that he hated when people doubted his judgment. “Look, you need someone who can sweet talk their way into a high-pressure sales environment? He’s your guy. You’re never gonna find someone better.”

Oh, it really did sound good to hear Mark sing his praises.

Jaemin wiped his palms on a handkerchief and pretended like it wasn’t affecting him more than usual.

“Come here,” Mark said, and Jaemin followed him to the conference room. Agent Landry disappeared, and they were soon joined by Jungwoo and Lucas for a debriefing. Mark stood at the front of the room, his hands on his hips like always. Jaemin had to fight to resist the urge to make fun of him.

“Alright, this is a boiler-room scam. We’ve got an office full of junior Gordon Gekkos selling bad stock. It’s a classic pump and dump. The guy in charge buys half a million shares of dollar stocks, gets his boys to inflate the price by selling it over the phone, then dumps his stock when it peaks, leaving our buyers holding worthless shares,” Mark said.

“People are losing their homes over this. Guy last month got taken for fifty grand, he’s got three kids and no roof to put over their heads now. The average victim of this scam loses nearly thirty grand, so we need to shut this room down.”

“Room is mobile?” Lucas asked.

Mark nodded. “They’ve run this operation four times now. Every time they dump the stock, they pack up, move to another location.”

“Who’s the guy in charge?” Jungwoo asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Landry has got somebody on the inside, a female informant.”

“Female?” Jaemin repeated. “How did she work her way into a club of sexist pigs?”

“She hasn’t,” Mark said grimly. “That’s why we’re sending in someone who can. Some who can hustle with the best of ‘em.”

“I guess we won’t be drawing straws,” Lucas commented.

“You’re gonna be interviewing with a guy named Brad,” Mark told Jaemin.

Jaemin sighed. “Of course his name is Brad.”

“You think he can keep up with those guys?” Jungwoo asked.

“I know he can,” Mark replied.

“Oh, Mark, I’m flattered,” Jaemin said, fake swooning in his chair. He felt Jungwoo kick at his seat and flashed him a wide smile.

“Oh, give me a break, you could sell light switches to the Amish. Madison Cookler is our girl on the inside, but she won’t know who you are.”

“What’s her role in all this?” Jaemin asked.

“The guys transfer the calls to her after they make a sale. She takes down all the buyers’ information. But thanks to her, we know exactly what kind of stocks the guys are looking to hawk. We went fishing with several of our own front companies. They took the bait on that one. Rhymer pharmaceuticals.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow. “And you got a tap on every phone in the place?”

“Yep, we’re recording every call. But the sales are real. We just want to figure out who’s behind it all.” Mark walked over to the table and slid a box across the desk. It was a fancy gold watch fastened around a velvet cushion.

“Aw, a gift for me?” Jaemin asked, opening up the box and taking the watch out. “Mark, you shouldn’t have.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We call it an Eagle. It’s a recorder, transmitter, and GPS. Keep it on you at all times.”

“Love it.” Jaemin grinned.

“We need to cut your anklet on this one.”

“And I love it even more,” Jaemin said, his grin widening.

“No you don’t. We need to do well on this one. The higher ups think I’ve made a mistake, hiring you as a consultant,” Mark said, looking stern.

“Then let’s prove them wrong.”

“We better,” Mark replied, “or you’re heading back to a maximum security prison.”

Jaemin sighed. “Glad some things never change.”

$$$

“You can wait here for Brad.”

“Thank you,” Jaemin said to the receptionist. It was only a few minutes before a tall, pasty guy with an awful buzzcut came into the room.

“Madison! Madison, give me some good news.”

“Two closes, 3,200 shares,” Madison replied from her desk.

“Yes! That is what I like to hear,” the man laughed, then noticed Jaemin watching. “Don’t get your hopes up, I’ve already got dibs on that one.”

“Does she know that?” Jaemin asked.

“Since when does that matter?” He stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Brad. You must be Justin Parker.”

“Guilty as charged,” Jaemin said with a smile.

“Hey, uh, your U5 says you were terminated from Lehman Brothers.”

Jaemin scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah, the market crashed. Haven’t been feeling the love.”

“Oh? You couldn’t get a job anywhere else?”

“Wasn’t interested.”

“You want to make some real cash,” Brad said with a grin, nodding understandingly. “Look, our turnover rate is huge. High volume, high money. You make sales, you get paid. You know what? Don’t waste time taking down client information. Just transfer it over to the girls over there. They mop up. It’s women’s work anyway, right?”

Jaemin barely managed to conceal his disgust. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Brad chuckled. “Now hang on, I haven’t hired you yet. You, take a break,” he pointed at a man in a cubicle, then gestured for Jaemin to sit down, “let’s start your interview.”

“Okay. Let’s get some numbers then,” Jaemin said, putting his headset on. He took a quick glance at his watch to make sure it was transmitting.

“Take your pick,” Brad said.

“The 216 code feels lucky,” Jaemin said, a little bit louder than normal. He knew Lucas and Mark were in the van, listening in so they could reroute the call.

“Come on, newbie. Mr. Charles Fairweather is waiting for the deal of a lifetime,” Brad said smugly, leaning against the table. A few other employees stood around, clearly wanting to listen in.

“What am I selling him?” Jaemin asked.

“The dream,” Brad said, “which today is Rhymer Pharmaceutical.”

“Alright,” Jaemin said, then hit ‘Call’. Brad picked up the other headset, putting it on in order to listen in. What he didn’t know is that it wasn’t Mr. Fairweather on the line.

“Hello?

“Mr. Fairweather?” Jaemin asked.

“Speaking,” Mark’s voice came in through the headset.

“My name is Justin Parker,” Jaemin began, “and I want to be your broker.”

“I’ve already got a broker,” Mark replied.

“Really? And how’s he doing for you? He make any money last year?” Jaemin fired, leaning back in his chair.

“Nobody made any money last year.”

“See, that’s not true,” Jaemin replied. “If you were with me, you would have netted three percent. And that’s _after_ the crash.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He caught Brad’s smirk out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t worried. “Well, I have your email, I’ll send you my earnings report right now. Biotech and alcohol were up.”

“How did you get my number?” Mark asked.

“Your old broker. He’s not smart enough to keep you to himself. What do you do for a living, Charlie?”

“I’m a history teacher, but I’m not interested--”

“The only history that’s worth a damn is the history we make today. You know who said that? Jaemin asked.

“I believe it was Henry Ford.”

“Yes, yes he did,” Jaemin continued. “And he was right. Have you ever heard of Rhymer Pharmaceutical?”

“No.”

“Of course you haven’t. ‘Cause _your_ job is to teach, and mine is to know about companies like Rhymer before everyone else. You know when you _don’t_ buy a stock? When your cab driver tells you about it. Now if you had known about IBM before the invention of the microchip, would you have bought in?”

“Of course,” Mark replied.

“Well, Rhymer is poised for a breakout on the same scale. Monday, the FDA will approve them to begin clinical trials on a quantum confined nanotechnology that has the potential to transform cancer medicines. And I can get you in on the ground floor.”

“That sounds like insider trading.”

“No, not at all!” Jaemin assured him. “It’s completely legit. Look, I pore over a thousand pages of scientific technical BS so I can make you rich at three bucks a share. Let’s start small, okay? A thousand shares. I double that for you next week, and then we get serious.”

“Sounds nice,” Mark said, “but I’d have to ask my wife.”

“Ooh,” Brad said, making a sympathetic face, “your sale just died, rookie.”

“Mr. Fairweather, if you invest with me, the only question you’ll have to ask your wife is what kind of hardwood floors does she want in her new house.”

“I don’t know…”

“Life comes down to a few moments, Mr. Fairweather, and this is one of them,” Jaemin said.

“I’m in,” Mark said. “But let’s make it five thousand shares.”

Jaemin grinned when Brad’s jaw dropped. “Thank you. I’ll transfer you over to one of our girls and she’ll take your information.” He pressed the button to transfer the call and took off his headset, turning to Brad. “So, how did my interview go?”

“You’re hired.”

$$$

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be giving you this information if I didn’t feel confident enough to own a few thousand shares myself…”

“...What do you mean you don’t invest over the phone? Look, the Cuban missile crisis was solved with a phone call. We have to move on this right now…”

“...You don’t get rich buying into a high market. The market is down…”

“...What do you need, an engraved invitation? Look, you want the good things in life, what are you gonna do? You’re gonna work harder? No, you’re gonna invest smarter…”

“...See, now you’re starting to talk like a smart investor. Look, this is a stepping stone to your first million…”

“...Alright, I appreciate your business.”

Jaemin transferred the call over to Madison and stretched out in his chair, taking off his headset and hanging it on the stand. It was the end of the day, the sun was setting, and he had landed forty-four investors, completely annihilating everyone else on the scoreboard they kept at the front of the office.

“Come on, crazy eight, let’s go,” Brad said, appearing next to his desk.

“Crazy eight?” Jaemin deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.

“No? You land close to eight whales in one day, you can buy your own nickname. Time to hit the bars!” Brad declared. Jaemin began packing up his stuff, ready to follow his new coworkers, hoping to get some dirt out of them. “Oh, no, we’re not going with them. He wants to meet you.”

“Who?”

“The man behind the curtain.”

$$$

“That’s him, right there.”

They were standing in a high end bar, surrounded by the disgustingly wealthy. Jaemin had money, but he had money because he stole from the rich. These people stole from the poor, from the innocent, and from their own employees. They were classist, sexist, and usually racist, and Jaemin couldn’t stand the sight of them.

“Guy on the left is Avery Phillips, the man behind the curtain,” Brad said, “he’s the youngest guy to have a seat on the New York exchange. He’s the man with the plan. He finds the stocks, fronts the cash, we do the legwork.”

The guy in question was a short white guy with a big forehead, sitting at the bar arguing with an older man.

“Who’s he talking to?”

“His business partner.”

“He looks upset.” Avery was practically yelling now, though they couldn’t hear him from the other side of the room.

“Usually they work together but this time our room is all Avery, which is why they’re not exactly simpatico right now.” Brad hesitated for a moment, before adding, “keep that to yourself.”

Avery finally wrapped up with his partner and sauntered over to them. Jaemin tried not to roll his eyes. “You must be my new rainmaker.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin said, “I see you’re having problems with your associate.”

“Bro,” Brad protested.

“I don’t want to get pinched because you’re having domestic troubles,” Jaemin said, staring Avery down.

Avery stared back at him, but slowly began to smile. “You’ve got balls. I like that. But what my business partners and I discuss is not of your concern. So go relax, have fun.”

He patted Jaemin’s shoulder harshly before brushing past.

Brad shook his head at him. “Not cool, man.”

$$$

“It’s a little early for you to be calling it a night, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t really early, almost midnight, but Mark knew how it was, working at a place like that. Drinks every night until late, exorbitant spending, extravagant meals and parties. It sounded good in theory, but not when you had to get up for work the next morning.

“Yeah, well,” Jaemin’s voice came through the speakers on his phone, “I got the man behind the curtain. His name is Avery Phillips.”

“Alright, I want to get moving on this,” Mark said, getting up from his seat. “Meet me at the office in an hour.”

“I’m in the neighborhood.” There was some rustling on the other end of the line. “Why don’t we meet at your place?”

“My place?” Mark said, surprised.

“Yeah, it’s a little late for the bland walls of the Bureau. Besides, you have better coffee.”

“I do have better coffee,” Mark agreed. He didn’t bother to question why Jaemin was in the neighborhood — he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. “Alright, let’s meet up at mine, then. I’ll call up the others.”

Twenty minutes later, Jaemin, Jungwoo, and Lucas were all sitting in his living room. Jungwoo had refused to change out of his pajamas and his hair was a mess, but at least he was present. Jaemin was the only one of them still dressed, indicating that he hadn’t even gone home yet.

“Coffee, my dears.” Renjun exited the kitchen with a tray of mugs and passed one to each of them.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” Lucas said, flashing him a sleepy smile.

“No problem. I was gonna be up in, what, six hours anyway?”

“Thanks, baby,” Mark said, reeling Renjun in for a quick one-armed hug before letting him go. He sat down next to Jaemin, apparently planning to work instead of sleep, his laptop opened up in front of him. Mark was about to tell him to go to bed, but he put his noise-cancelling headphones on and he was wearing his trademark concentrated pout, so Mark just left him be.

They played the audio files recorded by Jaemin’s watch, Mark taking down notes while it played. The information they had was a good start, and despite the late hour, Mark was pleased.

“I’ve got the latest intel on Phillips,” Jungwoo said. “Check your email.”

Mark whistled when he opened it. “Phillips has been very busy.”

“He’s credible on paper,” Lucas said, “he runs a separate legit brokerage with this man, Daniel Reed.” He spun his laptop around to show them the screen.

“Oh, I know him. I saw them arguing. They’re partners,” Jaemin said, “but they don’t trust each other.”

“Sounds par for the course,” Mark commented.

“Checked with the FINRA, their business is profitable,” Jungwoo said, “but something tells me that Avery is trying to push out Reed.”

“They’ve run the boiler-room scam together on this side in the past, maybe for startup capital. But according to your new buddy Brad, this current shop is all Avery. He’s planning something on his own,” Mark concluded.

“So, let me wrap my head around this for a second. Let’s just say I’m Reed, you’re Avery. You’re trying to screw me over,” Jaemin said. “Why?”

“Money,” Lucas said. “It always is.”

“We know who we’re after, now all we need is proof that Avery is getting a cut of the profits from the room,” Mark said.

“Well, can we get the boiler-room books?” Jaemin asked, tapping a pen against his chin.

Mark shook his head. “No, we make that request, we tip our hands, and they close shop. We need another way in.”

Jaemin leaned in, looking eager. “We already set up a company they’re exploiting,” he said, “how about we set up a CEO to exploit them?”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going with this?”

“Well, let’s just say that the owner of Rhymer Pharmaceutical is onto the scam. So he walks into Avery’s office with a proposal. Earning reports and a share of the profits in exchange for silence. We create the right backstory, give this CEO a working history, and it could totally fly,” Jaemin suggested.

“It could work,” Mark admitted, “but the question is, who do we send?”

“How about you? You look like a guy people can trust, but you also look a little shady,” Jaemin said with a shit-eating grin. Lucas guffawed, too loud for the late hour, while Jungwoo just looked amused.

“You’re way too excited about this,” Mark said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Jaemin held his hands up in defence.

“Hey, I just wanna see you go undercover. It doesn’t happen very often,” he said.

Mark laughed. “It happens more than you think. I still have some active aliases.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, but he looked pleasantly surprised. “You’re a man of many faces.”

“I try.”

He let Jaemin, Lucas, and Jungwoo have their fun in creating his persona and back story. Mike Leonard, a young and upcoming CEO who split from his original position at a different pharmaceutical company in order to create his own, Rhymer Pharmaceuticals. Rumoured to have been involved in a major ponzi scheme but nobody could say for certain.

By the time they had the details wrapped up, it was almost two in the morning. Mark saw out Lucas and Jungwoo first, the latter practically falling asleep standing.

“Make sure he gets home safely,” Mark said to Lucas.

“Will do, boss,” Lucas replied, giving him a salute before helping Jungwoo into the car. Mark waited for them to drive away before he shut the door and headed back into the living room. He found Jaemin still hard at work, but to his surprise, Renjun had fallen asleep against his shoulder, still wearing his headphones.

“Help,” Jaemin said when he caught sight of Mark.

Mark laughed, walking over to the couch and gently shaking Renjun’s shoulder. “Injun. Injunnie, wake up. Baby, it’s time to go to bed.”

Jaemin jostled his shoulder a little, and it was enough for Renjun to open his eyes, sitting up with a big yawn. He squinted blearily around the room as he took off his headphones, looking confused.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Mark teased. “Wanna get up and head to bed?”

“Oh, I fell asleep.” Renjun looked surprised. He rubbed a tiny fist over his eyes before clumsily getting to his feet. “I never want… to look at a spreadsheet ever again.” He tripped over the edge of the rug and Mark caught him around the waist before he could fall. It was then that he noticed Jaemin was still on the couch. “Oh! Jaemin, you’re still here? It’s so late, why don’t you crash in the guest room?”

“I’m sure Jaemin doesn’t want to--”

“I’d love to,” Jaemin and Mark said at the same time. Mark gave Jaemin a look, but eventually relented.

“Let me just get you a toothbrush and change the sheets,” Renjun slurred, swaying on his feet.

“Uhh, how about I do that, and you just crawl into bed so you’re not completely dead on your feet tomorrow,” Mark suggested. Renjun nodded, yawning right in Mark’s face before he padded up the stairs. Teddy followed after him, his claws clicking on the steps. “Okay, let’s just get you settled, then. You better not steal anything.”

“Please,” Jaemin snorted, “I was only ever interested in _valuable_ objects.”

Mark punched his shoulder before heading into the first floor bathroom where they kept their spare toothbrushes. He passed one to Jaemin, then left him to brush his teeth while he changed the sheets in the guest room.

“I’ll drop you off at your place in the morning,” Mark said when he bumped into Jaemin in the hall. “Maybe you should look into getting a car.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jaemin replied. “Goodnight, Mark.”

“Goodnight, Jaemin.”

$$$

“I appreciate your business, ma’am,” Jaemin said into his headset, “I’m gonna transfer you over to my associate, Madison--” he noticed Brad standing next to his desk, shaking his head, “--will you hold on just a moment?” He covered the mic with his hand, pushing it away from his mouth. “What is it? I’m about to close a sale.”

“That’s cool,” Brad said, “just don’t transfer the call to Madison.”

Jaemin froze. “Why not?”

“Just do what you’re told,” Brad replied, visibly annoyed.

“What am I, an intern here?” Jaemin asked, feeling a little offended.

Brad sighed. “Look, I have no idea what’s going on, all right? Avery says freeze out Madison, that’s what we do. Just go to Linda for now.”

“Fine,” Jaemin replied. He finished up the call, but his mind was racing. Did Avery know that Madison was a mole? How did he figure out her true identity?

“By the way, uh, Avery’s having a party at his place on Saturday. Clear your calendar,” Brad said before walking away. Jaemin looked around before getting up from his desk and heading to the bathroom to call Mark.

“You hear that?” He asked as soon as Mark picked up.

“Yeah,” Mark said, “it looks like they’re getting suspicious of our inside man.”

“Woman,” Jaemin corrected. “What should we do?”

“She doesn’t know about us, so there isn’t really much we _can_ do,” Mark explained, “All we can do is hope that we can get him before anything happens.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jaemin said. He hated the thought of what Avery might do if he really did know that Madison was a mole. He might hurt her, or worse. They needed to catch him, and fast.

“I don’t either, Jaem.” Mark sounded distressed. “I don’t either.”

$$$

“I need that eBid analysis on Tuesday, Jason. _Tuesday_. You got that?”

Mark straightened when Avery walked into the room. “Ah, Mr. Leonard. Glad to meet you.”

“No you’re not,” Mark scoffed.

“Direct,” Avery said, smiling a little. “I like that.”

Mark cut to the chase. “I know what you’re doing to my company. Rhymer Pharmaceutical isn’t worth all that attention,” he narrowed his eyes, “so tell me why a guy like you is buying all those shares.”

Avery crossed his arms defiantly, leaning against his desk. “You have proof I bought any shares?”

“We both know how these games are played,” Mark replied, “I may not work on Wall Street, but that doesn’t mean I can’t smell a shark in a suit. You’re making a move, and you’re setting yourself up big. That’s what guys like you do.”

To his credit, Avery didn’t so much as twitch. “Why are you here, Mr. Leonard?”

“Bottom line? I want in. The money you stand to make from taking over my company means that you owe me board membership to your firm. I’m not talking about controlling interest, just a taste of the profit,” Mark answered.

“Or what?”

“Or I talk to the feds,” Mark replied, “or I talk to the shareholders.”

Avery looked offended now as he uncrossed his arms. “Do you know who I am?”

Mark snorted, looking Avery up and down before shaking his head. “Yeah, I do. I’ll give you until Monday to give me your projected earnings. You know what you stand to lose, I wanna know what I stand to make.”

“Tell you what,” Avery said, sitting on the edge of his desk and leaning forward. “I’m having a little get-together this weekend.”

“I’m not here to be your friend.”

“If we’re gonna do business off the books, we should discuss it off the clock.”

“Fair enough,” Mark replied. “What did you have in mind?”

$$$

Guns.

Avery’s friends were playing with guns, shooting at targets launched by a catapult. It was stupid, and they were drunk, but Mark wasn’t here to babysit grown men. The place was crowded, an isolated estate full of pretty women and Avery’s friends. There were even waitresses walking around serving food and drink. Mark ignored all of it.

“Nice place,” Mark observed coolly.

“Well, what can I say?” Avery replied. “I’m a boy with my toys. What’s life like without a little fun, right?”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty five this month, but just because I’m ahead of the curve, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy my success, right?” Avery asked. Mark just nodded, mentally rolling his eyes. “You want to see something really cool?”

_I want to see you behind bars,_ Mark thought.

“Sure,” was what he said in reply.

Avery led him into the house, through the living room and up the stairs to the second floor. At the end of the hall, there was a room filled with--

“Comics,” Mark deadpanned.

“My prized possessions,” Avery said with a flourish. Mark eyed the books in the frames on the walls and tried not to laugh. He wasn’t in the habit of making fun of people’s interests, he was just surprised. “I’ve been collecting since I was a kid. Every kid needs inspiration, these are mine.”

“That’s nice,” Mark replied, trying his best to sound interested.

“I could trade this one for your car,” Avery said, gesturing to one of the comics behind glass.

“You like superheroes,” Mark said, “those who go above and beyond what the ordinary human can do.”

“Yup,” Avery replied proudly. “That’s me… minus the cape. Oh, and you’ll love this. The vault is completely tricked out. If there’s a fire, the room clamps down, the air is sucked out in ten seconds.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Mark said cautiously.

“Damn right,” Avery bragged, his chest swelling with pride. “You steal from me, same thing. THe door shuts, you die with no air to hear yourself scream.”

$$$

“Nice shot.”

Jaemin clapped along with everyone else. He couldn’t remember anyone’s names, so he was just guessing based on their appearances. So far, he got Jason and Todd correct. He was just waiting to learn the others, or hoped that he didn’t have to use them.

“Mr. Leonard, these are the guys,” he heard behind him, and turned to see Avery and Mark walking up to them. “Guys, this is Mr. Leonard. Who’s up next?”

“Justin is,” Jason said.

“Nah, I’m good, man. You go ahead,” Jaemin said.

“Dude’s been passing on us all day!” Todd exclaimed.

Jaemin shook his head. “I’m not really a gun guy.”

“Just do it, man,” Avery said. Jaemin sighed, taking the rifle from Jason and standing with his non-dominant shoulder facing the target. He held the rifle up, placing the buttstock near the center of his body and high up on his chest, gripping the forestock with his other hand and pressing his cheek against the side of the stock.

“Pull,” he called, then took aim and fired. He didn’t miss a single target.

“Nice!” Todd said empathetically, slapping Jaemin on the back.

“Just because I don’t like guns,” Jaemin said to Avery, “doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use one.” He passed the gun off to one of the guys whose name he couldn’t remember before falling in line next to Mark.

“Why don’t you guys keep going?” Avery suggested. “I’ve got some business to take care of.” Jaemin followed his line of sight and spotted Madison near the front of the house, flanked by two men. _Shit._

“Hey, man, why is Madison here?” Jaemin asked Jason.

“Who?” Jason replied. Jaemin just sighed and returned to Mark’s side.

“They know she’s a mole,” he murmured, jutting his chin out towards the house. Mark saw Madison and cursed under his breath.

“Damn it, this is gonna go bad fast. Just back my play, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?” Jaemin asked.

“Just trust me,” Mark replied, and before Jaemin could nod, he was already shouting. “Hey, Avery! This guy’s been playing you! You got yourself a spy!”

Jaemin couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you selling me out?”

“I’ll explain later,” Mark muttered, then louder, he shouted, “I knew I recognized this son of a bitch!”

“What do you mean?” Avery asked, striding over.

“Search him,” Mark said, and Jaemin was forced to stand still by one of the men he didn’t know while Avery checked his clothes. Luckily, he missed the watch, but he did find the pen that Jaemin used for recording video in his pocket, still blinking red.

“What the hell is this?” Avery demanded, turning to Jaemin with fury in his eyes.

“Like he said,” Jaemin replied, gesturing to Mark, “I’m a spy.”

“Two years ago this guy tried to extort me on insider trading,” Mark lied, “you can’t trust him.”

“Who are you? SEC? FBI?”

Mark scoffed. “You think the FBI could afford a gadget like that? No, he’s a corporate spy.” He was playing up the patronizing angle, and Jaemin could tell it was getting to Avery. He had probably been looked down upon all his life for being younger than his peers, no matter how smart he was. Jaemin had to hand it to Mark -- he was smart.

“Who do you work for?” Avery spat.

“Your partner,” Jaemin said, “Daniel Reed.”

Avery’s jaw dropped. “Reed?”

“You think he doesn’t know what you’re planning?” Jaemin asked, struggling to get out of No Name’s clutches. “He’s been onto you for months.”

“Take Madison home,” Avery instructed one of his friends, “put her in a car, give her a bottle of wine, and tell her she’s employee of the month.”

“How do we keep this quiet?” Todd asked, nodding at Jaemin.

“We’re gonna put him on that catapult, and I’m gonna put a bullet right between his eyes,” Avery said.

Mark laughed, and even had Jaemin surprised. “You’re really gonna try the whole bad guy schtick? No, you buy him. Flip him on Reed.”

“What’s Reed planning?” Avery demanded, jostling Jaemin in the side.

“He knows you’re gonna cut him out of his half,” Jaemin bit out, “he hired me to find out how so he can cut you out first.”

Avery turned to Mark. “How am I supposed to flip him if I can’t even trust him?”

“Pay him in stock,” Mark suggested, “he helps you, he gets rich. He screws you over, you get nothing.”

“I’ll give you two percent,” Avery said. Jaemin looked at him right in the eyes, ripping out of No Name’s hold to shake his hand.

“Deal.”

$$$

“I want you to tell Reed that we’re gonna dump the stock next Friday.”

They were back in the high-end bar, clearly a regular spot for both Reed and Avery. He could see Reed sitting at a table near the bar, but he definitely couldn’t see Jaemin and Avery.

“When’s the real dump?” Jaemin asked.

“This Friday,” Avery replied, “While we’re celebrating, he’ll get to watch his stock become completely worthless.”

Jaemin didn’t bother answering, instead making his way across the bar. When he looked back, Avery was already gone, so he slid into a seat at Reed’s table.

“Excuse me,” he said cordially.

“The hell do you want?” Reed asked gruffly. “This better be good.”

“It is,” Jaemin assured him. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Avery’s new ‘rainmaker’. ‘Course I know who you are,” Reed said with a scoff.

“Your partner’s cutting you out,” Jaemin told him.

Reed scowled. “Get lost, kid.”

Jaemin sighed, taking his recording pen out of his pocket and playing back the audio of Avery’s voice. _“I want you to tell Reed that we’re gonna dump the stock next Friday… while we’re celebrating, he’ll get to watch his stock become completely worthless.”_

“That son of a bitch!” Reed shouted, pounding his fist against the table. “I’m gonna kill him!”

“No, if you do something, you’ll lose your chance to win the upper hand,” Jaemin said.

Reed eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Jaemin said, “I figured it might be worth something to you.”

“Why would I need you?”

“Because Avery _trusts_ me,” Jaemin replied. “I’m trying to make a profit. We can take him down, make some money in the process. It’s a win-win situation.”

“Hmm,” Reed said contemplatively. “And what would you need?”

“Access. I want his financial records. Proof he’s been running these rooms. We could hold that information over his head. The problem is, I couldn’t find anything on his home or office computer.”

Reed shook his head. “Avery doesn’t trust computers. They’re too easy to hack into. But he has a ledger.”

Jaemin grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Mr. Reed, I’m looking forward to working with you.”

$$$

“There’s no paper trail because he literally keeps it _on paper._ Find this ledger and we got him. We just need to figure out where he keeps it.”

“I know exactly where he keeps it,” Mark said, gesturing to the floorplan of Avery’s house. “According to the company who installed it, we’re dealing with a state-of-the-art fire-suppression system. It’s the same kind they use in the top museums. When triggered, a polycarbonate glass wall seals the room, and then a hydraulic vacuum sucks out the oxygen. Fire dies, no damage to what’s inside.”

“And if I’m in there, no air to breathe,” Jaemin concluded.

“Well there is a kill switch, but we don’t know where it is,” Mark admitted.

“Wonderful.”

“Tech lab has another gadget for you,” Lucas said, passing Jaemin what looked like a silver tube with a mouth piece. “This is a mini breather, it will give you five minutes of air, just in case the system is triggered.”

“And,” Mark continued, handing Jaemin a metal tube, “it fits perfectly in one of these.”

“Cigar tube, nice,” Jaemin said with a grin. “FBI’s been watching Thunderball. Breaking out all the toys on this one, guys.”

Mark rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t turn fast enough to hide his smile. “Anything happens, Lucas and Jungwoo will be stationed with a unit right outside the property.”

“Five minutes worth of air,” Jaemin said. “What’s your response time?”

Lucas winced. “Roughly five minutes.”

“Roughly,” Jaemin repeated.

“I’ll be at the house to back you up in case anything goes wrong,” Mark assured him.

“How are you gonna pull that off?” Jungwoo asked curiously.

“They’re dumping the shares on Friday, so everyone’s having a little party to celebrate,” Mark explained, “We’re both on the invite list.”

“So… just so I’m clear, if anything goes wrong, I suffocate,” Jaemin said.

“Then we’ll make sure nothing goes wrong,” Mark responded.

“Sure,” Jaemin muttered, “or I can just practice holding my breath.”

$$$

“You got the new Ferrari yet?”

Mark shook his head.

“I do,” Avery bragged. “Twin turbo V8 with adjustable rear spoil. Quite a piece of metal. Once this deal is done, you won’t settle for the street model. You’ll be able to get the design of pre-release from Italy. Ever been to the factory in Maranello?”

“No,” Mark replied.

“They’ve got their own wind tunnel, it’s unreal,” Avery said.

“What are you gonna do with your money?” Todd asked Mark curiously.

“I’m gonna put it in a secure 401k and mutual funds,” Mark said, “it’s all about security, bro.”

They gave him blank looks.

“Nah, I’m messing with you, man. I’m gonna buy a cruise ship, hollow it out. and turn it into a floating mansion!” Mark said, going with the most extravagant-yet-stupid idea he could think of. “What about you, Justin?”

“I’m gonna buy an island,” Jaemin said, “and I’ll learn how to play the guitar and just chill.”

“That’s awesome, bro,” Todd gushed. Avery clapped Jaemin on the back and told them he was getting more drinks. “Hey, Justin, that waitress is _totally_ into you. You should go for it, man.”

“You’re right, bro.” Jaemin knocked back his glass, though Mark was pretty sure whatever was in it wasn’t alcoholic, and got to his feet. “Wish me luck, man.”

“Good luck, dude,” Todd said, pouring himself another drink.

Mark locked eyes with Jaemin. “Good luck.”

$$$

Jaemin made his way through the room, stopping and talking to random people so it didn’t look too obvious. He slipped past the waitress and headed up the stairs, finding the vault and hurrying inside. The spotless white walls were covered in framed comic books, just as Mark said. He scanned the room, spotting a wooden chest on the counter.

He paused. It seemed almost… too easy.

Walking over to the chest, he opened it up to find a leather bound ledger inside. Frowning, he rounded the counter in order to see behind the box, only to find wires running up through the back.

“A trip wire,” Jaemin whispered to himself. “It must be a pressure plate.”

He could probably figure out how to deactivate it, but he wasn’t sure if he had the time. Looking over his shoulder, he checked to see if anyone was coming before crouching fully behind the counter, examining the wires.

It was no good. The system was designed so if the wiring was tampered with, the alarm would set off, meaning he would be trapped inside the vault with no oxygen.

“Shit,” he cursed, looking around frantically as he rounded the counter once more. It was possible that he could trick the pressure plate, but it would take some time and some very careful strategy.

“Mark,” Jaemin muttered as he bent closer to the box, “I’m trusting you to have my back.”

$$$

“Ten more minutes before we’re rich.”

“We’re already rich.”

“ _Billionaire_ rich,” Avery said. “Think I might want to go to space. Just catch a ride on one of those Russian rockets up at the space station.”

“You do that,” Mark said, just as his phone rang. “Excuse me.” He hopped off the couch, striding away as he answered his phone and brought it to his ear. “Mike Leonard speaking.”

“Mark, we’ve got a problem. Reed just came through the front door.”

_Damn it._

“All right, hold your position, but be ready to move,” Mark replied.

“You got it,” Lucas replied, “All agents, hold your positions.”

Mark hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket and slipping through the crowd just as Reed stormed up to Avery still sitting on the couch.

“You son of a bitch!” Reed yelled.

“Why don’t you ease back on the hostility, man?” Avery said with a chuckle.

“What are you celebrating, huh? We don’t have anything to celebrate for another week!” Reed yelled. Mark began edging up the stairs, still keeping an ear out. The party had mostly gone silent, everyone watching the two argue. Nobody was even looking Mark’s way.

“We’re just relaxing, man,” Avery replied, “I figured the boys could use a little reward for all their hard work.”

“No.” Reed jabbed a finger in Avery’s face. “I couldn’t let this go. I know what you’ve been up to.”

“Don’t you come into my house and accuse me of--”

“Shut the fuck up! I’ve been talking to your spy buddy. I know all about it.”

“My spy?” Avery scoffed. “You hired him, I’m just flipping him back on you.”

_Shit._ Mark began running up the stairs, sprinting down the hall. It seemed longer than he remembered, and he burst into the vault room, startling Jaemin.

“We need to get out of here, now!” Mark yelled. He heard footsteps behind him and whirled around to see Avery carrying one of his rifles. There was nowhere else to go. Avery raised the gun, but the polycarbonate glass slammed down just as he fired. The bullet slammed into the glass, but Mark was too distracted by the sound of the vents powering on.

“We need to find the kill switch,” Mark said.

“Take this,” Jaemin replied, shoving the mini breather into Mark’s hands.

“No, we look together. We share the oxygen until Lucas comes.”

“There’s not enough time!” Jaemin snapped. “Five minutes for one person, two and a half minutes for two.”

“Jaemin, no!”

“We’re wasting time!” Jaemin grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. “Mark, I trust you.”

_Fuck._ Mark shoved the mini breather in his mouth, and they began tearing the room apart to look for the switch. He ripped comic books off the wall, frame by frame, moving as fast as he could. Time was running out. Jaemin was probably getting lightheaded by now. He yanked the shelves to check behind them, then caught Jaemin waving at him out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around to see the switch on the wall, having been hidden by one of the frames. Why hadn’t Jaemin pressed it? He turned to find Avery still waiting with his rifle raised, ready to fire.

Jaemin suddenly collapsed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Mark ran over, but hesitated with his hand over the switch. If he pressed it, the door would open and Avery would be able to kill them. If he didn’t, they’d die anyway. He took one look at Jaemin on the floor, Jaemin who had given up his oxygen for Mark. Who trusted Mark to have his back. There was no other option.

He spat out the breather, slammed the switch and yanked out his gun, aiming at Avery just as Lucas and Jungwoo rounded the corner with their guns raised.

“FBI, drop your weapon!” Lucas shouted. “Put your hands in the air!”

Mark didn’t give them another glance, trusting Lucas to take care of it. He holstered his gun and dropped to the floor, putting his hand in front of Jaemin’s nose and mouth. He couldn’t feel his breath.

“Alright, come on, Jaem,” Mark said, positioning his hands to start chest compressions. “Come on, come back to me.”

Jaemin’s eyes suddenly flew open, and he took in a breath, then another. Mark couldn’t help the grin spreading on his face as he helped Jaemin sit up, patting his back as he caught his breath.

“That was a long five minutes.”

“You’re crazy,” Mark told him. “ _Never_ do that again.”

Jaemin smiled wryly. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

$$$

“Jaemin risked his life for me today.”

Renjun choked on his food. Mark frantically passed him a glass of water, watching worriedly as his husband gulped it down, pounding on his chest.

“Maybe wait until after we’re done eating to drop a bomb on me like that? What do you mean he risked his life for you?” Renjun asked.

“Sorry,” Mark said sheepishly. “Um, we were stuck in a vault and the oxygen got sucked out, so Jaemin gave his breather to me while we looked for the kill switch, and then he passed out.”

“You what? He _what?!_ ” Renjun paled. “You know what, never mind. Don’t tell me, or I’ll never let you walk out of this house again.” Teddy barked, upset that Renjun was stressed. “Oh, I’m okay, baby. Your dad is just an idiot.”

“Hey,” Mark protested.

“I need to send him a gift basket!”

“Renjun,” Mark sighed.

“Or maybe an edible arrangement?”

“Renjun.”

“I’ll buy him wine! He likes wine, right? What’s his favorite?”

“Renjun!” Mark shouted, unable to control his laughter. “Baby, you don’t need to get him anything. He’s fine. He’s at home, he’s ordered takeout, he’s got the day off tomorrow and then the weekend to recover.”

“He saved your life,” Renjun said with a pout. “We need to repay him.”

“We will,” Mark promised. “By saving him from himself.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/jaemarkism)  
>  [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/jaemarked)


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